Telling the Tale
by Seredine
Summary: After twenty-eight years of silence, Nyra and Alistair finally decide it's time to tell the tale of their adventures during the Blight. However, even telling a simple story can have its problems. This story is set both within game and 28 years in the future where we see glimpses of life afterwards for the fated Grey Warden couple. M for language, themes, & content.
1. Chapter I: Origin

**I am suffering with some silly formatting problems and I don't know why it's doing it. However, there are no gaps or markings were the change of scenes take place, and so it looks like it's running into one another, so I apologise for these problems, I am trying to fix them.**

Telling the Tale

_This story explores things that are and are not seen in Dragon Age Origins – this is the story that I thought of as I was playing the game with my Lady Aeducan, Nyra, when playing the Dwarf Noble line. This story follows the game to an extent – however, as it's my story I have added things, given more background and story to my character and the other's around them. This story isn't being written off the cuff – it is planned, therefore please don't think that I am going to leave things unanswered._

_Thank you to Jo for beta-reading this for me and putting up with my 'my lady's'! And to HopeLearningSerenity for the title! lol_

Chapter One – Origin

The knock at the door signalled the arrival of the scholar she'd sent for. If there was one thing Nyra was happy about in her twenty-six years as Warden Commander, it was the introduction of an archive – a variation of the memories within Orzammar. Once Alistair had joined her at the Keep, they had agreed that after Ostagar no Grey Warden should ever die unacknowledged and that their names and histories should be recorded somewhere so that they could be recognised for the sacrifices they made upon joining the order. It wasn't to mark heroes amongst them; it was to ensure that no one should ever be forgotten again.

Alistair opened the door to the young woman; she had been at the Keep as a scholar for six or maybe seven years and had a knack for the written word they hadn't seen in many years. Instead of only documenting the lives of those she spoke to, she expressed them with a flair and style that gave even the foulest man a slight scent of the rose. Never did she lie or excuse the behaviour about which she was told, but when she put ink to paper she wove tales of which even Leliana, the best bard in all Ferelden, would be jealous.

'Come in, Lowena,' Alistair greeted her with a smile. She blushed as she walked hesitantly into the room, taking in the surroundings of the private chambers of the Warden Commander and her deputy. The fire was roaring to try and banish the draughts that the Keep allowed to blow through its corridors, and Nyra was sitting on the cushioned couch the scholar had seen arrive only that morning buried under a number of blankets and furs trying to keep out the cold. It was common knowledge that she hated the cold and was often heard complaining that no fire could ever match the lava vents of Orzammar.

The young scholar almost dropped the papers and inks she was carrying when she spotted Nyra, surprised to see her so informal and relaxed. She was more accustomed to the Commander walking through the halls in her leathers or mail, with her daggers across her back, always a matter of business about her. Nyra looked up from the book she had been reading and her laugh, a soft giggling which again took Lowena by surprise, danced across the room. Lowena stopped, wondering if she had done something wrong, when Nyra tapped her nose.

She slowly brought her hand up and wiped at the tip of her own nose finding her fingers coloured in ink. Lowena sighed as she rubbed it with her sleeve. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last time she had ink smudged across her face.

'What can I do for you, Commander?' Lowena asked bowing with papers and inks clutched to her chest.

'The Commander has a special request.' Alistair offered Lowena a fur and placed a writing table in front of her before sitting at Nyra's side, his own legs sliding under the covers as a blast of wind caused the fire to flicker and dip before picking up again.

'Anything you require, Commander.'

Nyra sighed, looked up to her lover, and smiled. His hair had flecks of silver now, and there were a few creases around his eyes when he smiled back, but his amber orbs were as young and as soft and gentle as they had been when she met him that day in Ostagar nearly three decades ago. He had aged well, and if not for the scar that lined the left side of his jaw, few would realise he was as battle hardened as he was.

'Lowena, I have called you here because I trust your writings; you write truer of those who talk to you than any of your associates.' Nyra announced, her voice far softer than the young scholar had ever heard. Lowena bent her head in thanks at the compliment. 'It is time that the story is finally told. It is time to write the tale, in its fullest, in all truth, of the Blight and the role that _we_ played within it.'

Lowena gasped slightly as Nyra nodded. This was what every one of the scholars within the Grey Warden Archive wanted to write when they came to the Keep, what they longed for every time they put ink to paper, and the newest scholar receiving such an honour would probably make a few heads explode.

'But I am just an apprentice,' Lowena spoke with a quiver of excitement and apprehension in her voice. The task was such an honour and privilege and as such it carried great responsibility and pressure. 'Surely, the Professor would be the best man to write such a history.'

'But that's the crux, Lowena,' Alistair spoke. 'The Professor does an excellent job at _documenting_ history, but that's not what we want. We want _our_ story written, we want others to be able to read it and have… hope when faced with the impossible.'

'Tell me, Lowena. What do you, as a historian and writer, know of the last Blight, of how it was ended and of the Wardens who defeated it?' Nyra asked.

'Well,' she took a breath. 'If I were to summarise Brother Genitivi's writings in _The Dragon Age Blight: Ferelden Alone_, I would say that I know that after the death of King Cailan and his troops at Ostagar, there were but two Wardens left who went by the names Nyra and Alistair.' She gestured towards the two wardens across from her. 'They had the insurmountable task of reassembling the armies with nothing more than the treaties of the Wardens in hand and a few bandits at their disposal.'

'Oh, I'm sure they'd love that,' Alistair thought aloud as Nyra smothered a giggle. Their friends being considered a bunch of bandits would never go down well with the group.

'I… err… Yes, so the two wardens and their… group, recruited the Dwarves after declaring a new king of Orzammar, the Dalish after freeing them of a curse that had started to plague them, the Circle of Magi after solving the problem of a maleficar gone mad, and then banded the nobles together under one banner – yours, I believe.' She nodded at Alistair, who grimaced and looked away.

'And then what?' Nyra pressed.

'Well, then you all went to fight the Darkspawn and the Archdemon. You defeated it and walked away, which no other Grey Warden had ever done.'

'That, my dear, is a very good summary.'

'But, why were you able to walk away? Why did you choose the King you chose for Orzammar? Being a dwarf, did you know them both? Why didn't you kill all the mages? Any one of them could have been a maleficar after what happened! And what really happened at the Landsmeet?' Lowena barraged them with questions before lowering her voice, 'Rumours have always said that there was a traitor, but no one really speaks of it and it was never written of.'

'And it is _because_ you ask such questions that we want you to write the real history of the Blight, the truth in its entirety. No lies, no hidden agendas. Just the words we speak.' She nodded, and dipped her quill in the ink.

'May I ask questions as we go?'

'If you don't then we've chosen the wrong scholar.'

'Then tell me, Commander, you came to Ostagar from Orzammar, yes?'Nyra nodded. 'Why did you leave?'

'_That_ is an excellent place to start our story…'

* * *

'But why has there been a change in my tactics, Brother?' I asked brushing my fingers through my long white hair before gathering it up into the high ponytail I always wore. 'Surely as Commander I should be leading the Grey Wardens down into the eastern tunnels?' I posed a good question, one that seemed to have been going around in Trian's head for some time too.

He scratched at his beard as he spoke. 'I don't know, little sister, it's just what I heard father telling Lord Harrowmont last night. Bhelen is going to Second him and you'll go get the Aeducan Shield to ensure your glory and bring honour to the house.'

'So glory is mine again?' I sighed, resting my chin in my hand as I stared glumly into the mirror. A moment of uncomfortable silence fell between us before I sat up again and turned to face him smiling. 'Don't worry, Big Brother, when we return this evening, I shall present you the shield in front of all the houses as a gift for your future glory as king.'

I bit my lip. 'Father won't like it, but it will show the others that you have my support as the rightful heir.' Still a nagging doubt lingered in my mind as he refused to meet my eyes. I took a breath and finally spoke what was on my mind. 'Trian, Bhelen came to me last night.' His eyes snapped to mine. For a moment I wondered why I had allowed Gorim to leave us alone.

'Did he indeed?' He walked to the door of my bed chamber and closed it. 'And just what did our baby brother have to say?'

My eyes moved nervously from the door to Trian. _Hurry back, Gorim,_ I thought as I licked my lips and took a breath before speaking again. 'He told me that you were going to move against me today. That I was becoming too much of a threat to you and that you were going to try and kill me.' I stood up and went over to him. Although I was only half an inch taller, he had once told me that I always made him feel that I towered above him; right now I needed to use that to my advantage. 'Tell me, Big Brother, would you go back on your word? On our agreement?'

'Bhelen told you that?' He shook his head.

I nodded, my jaw set, eyes narrowed. 'He said he overheard you giving orders to your men – you can ask Gorim if you wish it, he was there.'

'Little sister, Bhelen said that _you_ were moving against _me_.' His dark eyes told me he spoke the truth. I nodded, my face instantly softening as I backed down, my shoulders slumping in relief. 'He said that you were going to address the Assembly and announce that… Sister, he _knows_ about me.'

'What? How?' I shook my head in disbelief. For years we had kept our secrets hidden far from prying eyes, and after so many years we had thought we were safe. _Complacency_, I thought, _we let our guard down._

'I don't know, but he knows.'

I rubbed my hand over my face in annoyance. 'I think he knows about Gorim and I too. He kept making comments, little snide remarks…'

'My Lady,' Gorim's voice sounded through the door as he knocked lightly, it was almost as if he had heard my call to him. 'My Lady it is time,'

Trian opened the door and made to leave. Gorim stepped out of the way, bowing to the Prince. He was half way across my sitting room when he stopped and turned. 'Watch your back today, little sister, I need you.'

'And I you, Trian.'

* * *

'_If_ Trian was to attack you, My Lady, the crossroads would be the perfect place to do it,' Gorim warned me as we made our way back through the labyrinth of tunnels.

'He's not going to attack me, Gorim. We've discussed this already.' I was trying to be as discreet as possible in front of the party members with whom we had been sent to recover the Aeducan Shield. 'Whoever sent those thugs, it wasn't Trian.'

'Do you think it was-'

'What's going on? Why are we stopping?' the young scout with us questioned.

'Is there trouble, My Lady?' grunted Frandlin Ivo.

'No, just keep your eyes peeled. We don't know who sent those men back there.'

Our group carried on, arms at the ready, the Aeducan Shield slung over my back. I could feel Gorim's eyes lingering on it. 'Perhaps that might be better in front of you,' he suggested, but I just shook my head.

Finally Gorim's arm stretched out in front to stop my progress. I turned to him to speak when he pressed his fingers to his lips and then pointed towards the tunnel opening. I realised that I had been about to go charging in to the room where the supposed trap was meant to be laid. I nodded to him, my eyes grateful, and gathered the shadows around me, the scout with us following suit.

I crept out into the crossroads and caught my breath. _Trian_!

'No!' I screamed as I ran, breaking my cover, not caring what or who saw me. 'Trian, no!' I shook his body hard as I knelt next to him. 'Brother, wake up, please, wake up!' There was blood everywhere – it was pooled about him and his guards, splattered up the walls and columns of the chamber – it had been a massacre.

I looked up at Gorim unable to speak or think. I looked with wide, confused eyes, as he pulled me into his arms. He wrapped them tightly around me whilst I stared at the columns that rose above us, looking at the blood that reached twice the height of any dwarf, even myself.

Gorim pulled back, concern in his eyes as I looked blankly around at the destruction, my arms still at my side, and daggers in my hands. 'Trian,' I managed to say as my eyes rested back on my big brother; my big brother who was going to give me everything I had ever wanted.

'My Lady,' he grasped my face in his hands and focused me to look at him. 'Nyra, please, we have to get you out of here – whoever did this may return. For you!'

'But Trian-'

'He's dead, Nyra, but you're not and I want you to stay that way.' I nodded, finally understanding his words.

I made to stand, but stopped, hovering over Trian as I closed his eyes. 'I will avenge you, Big Brother. I will ensure that you rest with the Ancestors in peace. Give me time, I promise.' I stood up and bowed my head before turning to walk away.

'Quick, father, over here,' Bhelen's voice sounded through the chamber. My hands tightened on my blades as I looked around for him. They had yet to appear, but his voice carried on an echo.

'A set-up!' I hissed, furious with myself for falling into such a trap. But I instantly knew who had done this. It was _he_, after all who had approached both Trian and me about such plots.

'I am sorry, My Lady,' Gorim whispered back, 'it seems that I have failed you.'

'No, Gorim, I failed us. And Trian too.' I shook my head as my father appeared around the corner and entered the cave with Bhelen and his guards, Lord Harrowmont bringing up the rear.

'Nyra?' My father questioned. My face was red with fury, I was covered in blood and holding my blades. I knew exactly how this was going to look – knew exactly which way this was going. _Thank goodness_, I thought, _for Frandlin and our scout._ The scout might not carry much for his word, but Frandlin certainly would. 'Nyra, what is all…' his words stopped as he saw Trian behind me.

'Brother, no,' Bhelen over emphasised his words, looking at Trian and then at myself. 'Nyra, what did _you_ do?'

Something inside me broke. I roared with outrage and lunged at him; Gorim grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back. 'You traitorous bastard!' I screamed at him. '_You_ did this! _You_ tried to play me, play us both!' I tried to wrestle out of Gorim's grasp but he held me firmly; finally I sagged into his hold as the tears began. It was over. 'Everything the three of us worked for, gone…'

'Nyra,' Lord Harrowmont began as he approached me cautiously; my head was dropped, my shoulders were shaking with the sobs I didn't want Bhelen to have the satisfaction of hearing, but I still had my blades in my hands, I was still dangerous. 'What are you talking about?'

It was a moment before I answered. I opened my eyes to see my father sitting with Trian, his lifeless son cradled in his arms whilst his face, wet with tears, looked up at me with disbelief and despair.

It cut me to my core to see that look in his eyes, but I refused to look away; I wanted him, no I was begging him, to know that I spoke the truth. 'Bhelen came to me last night, telling me that Trian was planning on attacking me here. I told him he was a fool and that Trian and I had an _understanding_ already in place. There was no way I was going to betray my big brother and I threw him out. Told him to get out my sight because if I did become queen one day, by some random chance, I'd make sure that he wouldn't be able to make such slanderous claims again.' I took a shaky breath. 'When I spoke to Trian this morning, I questioned him about what Bhelen had said and he told me that our little brother had also approached him with the same tactic.'

'That's absurd.' Bhelen snapped. 'I didn't do anything of the sort – nor did I have anything to do with this… I was with you two all day!'

'Lies!' I screamed and made for him for a second time. Gorim was quick to react, holding me back again.

'Why is anyone even asking her questions? She's standing there covered in _his_ blood with her daggers still brazenly in her hands.'

'Lord Harrowmont,' Gorim said, as I calmed down. 'The evidence here is circumstantial, and even if the real perpetrator was elsewhere all day,' his eyes flicked towards Bhelen, 'it doesn't mean that he, or she, couldn't have ordered the murder. However, Lady Aeducan speaks the truth – Bhelen did approach her last night in her rooms. I was there going over the plans for today.'

'Gorim, your loyalty to Lady Aeducan does you great honour, but it also makes you a terrible witness.' Lord Harrowmont sighed.

'Nyra,' My father looked up at me, his eyes damp with tears. 'Did you… Did you do this?'

'No, father.' I shook my head and knelt beside him. 'No I did not. I would never do anything like this. I would never hurt you, Trian or Bhelen… although that last one might change,' I sneered, glaring up at the snake I had called brother. 'I came in from finding the shield and found them here. I checked to see if he still lived, but he did not. Then you arrived, right at that moment…' I left it unsaid, but the world _conveniently_ hung in the air. 'We thought that you might have been the attackers returning to claim my life too, which is why our weapons were drawn.'

'She does speak the truth, Your Majesty. As little as my word is worth in this situation, I want you to know that your daughter is innocent,' Gorim offered my father.

'Scout, what do you say to all this?' Bhelen barked at the man who had accompanied me. I stood up, ready to tell Bhelen 'I told you so' before I punched him in the face.

'Lady Aeducan,' the scout began, unable look at me, 'saw Prince Trian standing here, she went up him as if to present him the shield, but when he went to embrace her, she showed him her dagger instead.'

'What!' both Gorim and I roared. I saw red and lunged at the lying bastard, this time moving out of Gorim's reach and slit his throat.

'Restrain the Lady Aeducan,' Harrowmont called, standing back away from the horror as the scout fell on his knees, his eyes wide, his cry of surprise reduced to a strained gargling noise before he collapsed on the floor.

'No!' My father's voice sounded throughout the hall. 'Who here wouldn't do the same thing if he lied against them?' The guards and their party members shifted uncomfortably. 'I know that I would have slit a traitorous throat myself.' He turned to the other who had been with me that day, 'Frandlin Ivo, you serve my daughter well in the armies; you honour her, your family and Orzammar by your actions and deeds. Therefore, tell me, I implore you, tell me what happened here – truthfully.

His eyes shifted guiltily from my father to Trian and from Trian to Bhelen and I knew before he opened his mouth that he was going to betray me and therefore my father and Orzammar as well. I looked at Gorim; he knew it too. He was shaking his head as he looked at me with eyes so sad that I wanted to cry again.

'It is just like the scout said.'

My father crumpled.

'Father!' I screamed in shock as he fell to the floor, two guards rushing to aid him. I struggled against those who held me back before turning my attention back to Bhelen. 'Look what you've done,' I spat. 'Look what you've done to our father! You've betrayed not only Trian and I, but our father, too – _your_ father. You've dishonoured our name and Orzammar itself!'

'She will lose her head for this, Trian,' Bhelen spat back at me. 'I swear it.'

'How can you not see this is a set-up, Lord Harrowmont?' Gorim asked in outrage. 'Isn't everything just a little _too_ perfect… the timing of your arrival, the men in Aeducan Thaig?' Harrowmont furrowed his brows at that remark. 'Oh, yes, we were ambushed by men there – ask Ivo, if he lies and says no, go there yourself and check.'

All eyes turned back to Ivo, who had tried to hide himself among the guards. I don't know if it was because Harrowmont could indeed go and check or because he felt he owed something to my father and me, but he did speak the truth on the matter of the mercenaries who had met us there.

'You see?' continued Gorim. 'And why was the High Commander, who is the one responsible for the tactics of all the regiments that have fought today, sent on this little side mission? Of course the shield is important, of course the glory of House Aeducan is vital, but why wasn't Bhelen sent whilst she led? And why was she sent without her own personal battalion, her _own_ troops? Why send just two strangers with us?'

'You will shut your mouth, servant,' Bhelen spat, stepping up towards him. Lord Harrowmont held up his arm, holding him back, whilst he listened to my Second's words.

'No, I will not,' Gorim spoke back, causing Bhelen to splutter. Never had Gorim forgotten his place, but now he felt he had nothing to lose. Trian was gone and the plans we had all put in place were in ruins. He knew, as well as I, that the situation before us was dire regardless of my innocence. 'I will ensure that the Assembly and all of Orzammar hear these questions, hear the circumstances of Prince Trian's death, for he shall not rest with the stone until his real murderer is brought to justice.'

'Yes,' I spoke again, finally able to compose myself. 'Let the Assembly judge me for the things of which I have been accused, for I know that they will listen and judge me honourably.'

* * *

'Of course, they didn't. I wasn't even given a trial; instead I was exiled into the Deep Roads to face my death at the hands of the Darkspawn.' Nyra sighed as she leaned back against the couch. Alistair wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Nyra patted his knee lovingly. 'That moment at the crossroads was the last time I saw my father. I still remember his eyes, staring at me, pleading with me to make it all better again. And I wanted to so much. If I could have gone back, if I'd have refused to work without my own men or if I'd have made him send Bhelen. If Trian and I had questioned the change in the tactics that I'd prepared…'

'You'd have your father back, sure, but wouldn't that mean that you'd have none of this now?' The scholar vaguely gestured around the room, whilst looking directly at Alistair.

'I wouldn't give up my life now,' Nyra said as she stared blankly into the fire, rubbing Alistair's knee. 'But just to be able to see my father again, happy and proud…' Alistair pressed a kiss into her hair.

'So you were thrown in prison and sentenced without a trial?' Lowena asked after a few moments, allowing Nyra time to put her thoughts back in order. 'How could they do that?'

Nyra smiled gently, not many Surfacers understood the world of Dwarven politics. _Mind you,_ she thought, _not many Dwarves understood it fully, to be fair._

'My brother had over half the assembly in his pockets. How could I have had a fair trial even if I had been given one?' The young scholar tickled her chin with the quill's feather as she thought about the question.

'Dwarven politics are all back-alley deals and payments slipped under the table.' Alistair laughed. 'They're sneaky little buggers.'

'Hey! Less of the _little_!' Nyra exclaimed batting him playfully. He laughed harder at her weak protest and she smiled, loving the sound of his laughter.

'So,' Lowena refocused the discussion back onto the story. 'Was it your brother who brought the news of your exile or was it Lord Harrowmont?'

Nyra shook her head sadly, all laughter gone from her face. 'It was neither; Gorim was made to tell me.'

* * *

I embraced Gorim tightly against the bars of the cell that held me, trying desperately to impress into my mind the memory of how his lips moved against mine, his scent of steel and smoke, and the feel of his beard against my skin. I gulped for air as I fought back the tears that burned my eyes and threatened to spill down my face. I realised that this would, in all honesty, be the last time we saw one another. My exile into the Deep Roads would certainly end with my death.

'I will always love you, Nyra,' he gruffly whispered, emotion coating his voice. 'You will always be My Lady Aeducan and I will never forget you.'

'I'll make it out, Gorim. I will find the Grey Wardens, and they'll help me to the surface.' My voice cracked as the tears I had been holding back for so long finally slid down my cheeks. 'I'll meet you in Denerim, just like you said. I'll be there at the market square. Just make sure you're there for me.'

'I'll wait there for you every day, my heart.' The doors to the cells opened and a guard poked his head through the opening, motioning to Gorim that our time was up. Slowly he detangled himself from my embrace and wiped his own eyes. 'I have to go.'

'Until Denerim.' He cupped my chin and ran his thumb over my lips. I leaned forward and kissed him one last time before turning away, unable to watch him leave me here.

I heard him stop at the door and whisper a prayer to the Ancestors to watch over me – I stuffed my fist in my mouth, choking back the sob that threatened to tumble from my lips.

As I heard the doors close heavily, I fell to my knees and broke down. The easy life that I had led with a father who loved me, subjects who admired me, and a man who had worshipped the ground I walked on was over and only my death awaited.

I had tried to act bravely for Gorim's sake, but I knew that the chances of my finding the Grey Wardens, before the Darkspawn found me, were slim.

A new wave of tears washed over me as I thought of Gorim standing in the market square of the human capital, waiting for me every day, always hoping and never sure. I imagined him old, his beard long and white, his eyes filled with a life of sadness and loneliness and I wept again.

_So many things stolen from so many, all for the greed of one man, _I thought bitterly.

I wiped away the tears from my cheeks furiously. I _would_ find the Grey Wardens. I _would_ make it out of the Deep Roads, and one day I _would_ return to Orzammar and destroy Bhelen and all that _he_ loved.

He had taken away my father, my brother and my future. One day the favour would be returned – _that _I vowed.

* * *

Lowena looked at Alistair as she heard the words of her Commander.

'You know of all this, Ser,' Lowena asked.

It took a moment for Alistair to realise that she was talking to him. 'Err, of course.' Lowena bit her lip, knowing that he had missed her point. Nyra narrowed her eyes as she watched the scholar searching for the right way to reword her question. It was the first time since Lowena had entered the room that she had seen the Grey Warden Commander she knew.

Although the couple had been married for years – something that they had done before they found out it went against orders from Weisshaupt Fortress – the Grey Wardens and the rest of the staff at the Keep never saw Nyra as anything other than the Commander. Except when she had to attend to her duties as Arlessa, she was never seen walking the corridors without her armour, and she was always all business to the men and women she commanded and managed. To the world Nyra was a formidable leader and a woman not to be messed with.

But tonight the Commander was different. She was all softness and curves, giggles and caresses, loving looks and longing sighs. If Lowena couldn't see with her own eyes, the scars that marred her face, she would swear that this woman was not the woman who marched the corridors of the Keep barking orders to the men and women around her.

For Lowena, it solved the puzzle that mystified many of the women in the Keep as to why he loved her so much, why he looked at her with such love and adoration in his eyes. Every woman here, be them Warden, Scholar, or Servant, would give all they had to have a man look at them the way Alistair looked at Nyra – although most would probably not admit to it.

But the idea that Alistair knew all about this Gorim, the lover she had secretly taken in Orzammar and her desire to stay with him amazed the young scholar that he _would_ look at her in such a way, regardless of Nyra's behaviour when alone together. She knew of no man who would dare accept a woman as a bride who had been defiled for so long by another.

Nyra leaned over to her husband and whispered in his ear. Alistair blushed, his eye growing wide as he looked at the girl across from him.

'I, err, yes, I know of Nyra's history with Gorim, every detail… or at least as much as I wanted to hear! I actually owe the chap a lot.'

'I see…' Lowena rubbed the feather down her nose, her lips pursed. Finally she spoke again, her feather swishing through the air. 'Forgive me, ser, Commander, I just didn't wish to ask a question later and for it to cause either of you offense.'

'Of course,' Nyra accepted her apology gracefully, grateful of the scholar's tact. 'Shall I continue?'

'Please.' Lowena scribbled furiously some notes as Nyra began her tale of exile.


	2. Chapter II: Exile

_Again thanks to Jo for beta-reading this for me :D And for the lovely reviews and the alerts!_

Chapter Two – Exile

I was led to the doors of the Deep Roads by a dozen guards. Bhelen was taking no chances – he knew that I had trained over half the men in the army. Lord Harrowmont stood in front of those giant doors waiting as we marched to him. His eyes were red and he had dark circles shadowing them – he looked like he had been up all night, and he wasn't the only one. But I couldn't focus on him; all I could look at was those doors, those enormous doors that had once been sealed to stop the hordes of Darkspawn pushing through and destroying Orzammar, and of how many times I had been through them with hundreds of men under my command. Now I was about to be sent through them alone; no men, no armour and no weapon in my hand.

My step faltered and I felt a guard shove me hard in the back, pushing me forward.

'Keep moving, Kinslayer.'

I turned my head and sneered at him. He was young and hadn't been with the army long – a member of a lesser noble house if I recalled correctly. His eyes were filled with the same contempt I had seen from Bhelen the day before and it shook me for a moment until the words of another guard were barked at him.

'How dare you speak to Lady Aeducan in such a manner?'

He was much older than the first guard and had obviously been in the army for years, although I didn't recognise him. A number of the other older guards mumbled their approval of his words, whilst a great hiss went around the rest, hands twitching on the hilt of swords, guards glancing over to one another as we continued the march. Lord Harrowmont was still a short distance from us.

I stopped and turned to the older guard, placing my hand on his arm. His eyes were so sad when he looked at me and suddenly my heart ached for another reason. When I had fought for Orzammar I fought for the people who made the city, not just the stone it was built on, and they had known it. Bhelen hadn't just stolen from me and our family, but from Orzammar itself, its people who needed leaders to recognise them and do the best for them.

The troop halted and turned to face us as I spoke, 'I am no longer Lady Aeducan.' My voice was husky. 'I did not do the things they say, but I have been stricken from the memories, I am a lady of the stone no more.'

'You will always be remembered amongst us, My Lady. Your men, those who fought beside you since you joined our lines, will always remember you. Orzammar may forget your life, but we will not.'

I was stunned as he dropped to his knees and four other men followed suit, their heads bowed. I looked up to see that Lord Harrowmont had joined us and was watching the scene. I checked the other guards; their faces were confused and bewildered, but they still had their hands on their weapons. It would only take one of them to…

'Stand, men,' I snapped, 'for you do yourself no honour by bowing to an Exile.' But still they refused to rise. I saw the young guard who had first addressed me start to unsheathe his sword. I spoke quickly, 'Serve Orzammar as I always have. It is she who has judged me, but it is she that we honour, even I as I start this new journey. By honouring Orzammar, you honour me.'

Finally the men rose, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I noticed that the other guards looked at me curiously. I refused to meet their eyes. If they had decided to believe, without questioning, the lies of Bhelen then they deserved no acknowledgement or enlightenment from me.

We marched forwards, towards the doors, those huge doors…

* * *

The colossal doors shut behind me, the bang resonating through the tunnels. _If the world was to end_, I thought, _that's the noise it would make_.

I allowed my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the Deep Roads. I held aloft the glow stone I had been given and gripped the hilt of the blade one of the guards still loyal to me had snuck me. The grinding sound of the locking mechanism drove home that I really was alone now, no armies around me, not even Gorim at my side.

I thought of holding him one last time in the prison cell before the guards had called him away. He had begged to be able to walk the roads at my side and tears burned my eyes at the thought of us going to our deaths together.

I shook my head, forcing the images out of my mind. I needed to focus, not on death, not on lost love, or betrayal, but on getting out alive. I closed my eyes and felt the stone beneath my bare feet.

_No armour, no men, no sword_. I smiled as I griped the hilt of my surprise gift. _You haven't convinced everyone Brother_, I thought. _You got Trian and me, for sure, but you were sloppy – too many questions left hanging in the air._

The Grey Wardens were still wandering the tunnels. It had been two days since they had entered the eastern passageways. After searching there they had assured my father that they would make their own way out. I bit my lip as I lowered the glow stone to the ground and melted into the shadows – it was time to put my skills to the test, the final exam.

* * *

I felt like I had been going around in circles for days. The darkness in the tunnels – only broken every so often by shafts of light from the surface where cave-ins had happened – was disconcerting. So far I had managed to avoid any Darkspawn that had been lurking, whether they were staying away from me and watching what I was doing, or Trian and my men had done an excellent job when escorting the Grey Wardens. I felt it was the latter and thanked my brother silently as I ran my hand over the stone.

Then the humming started.

I stopped.

That was how we found them. We had no idea why they made such a noise, what it meant, but it was what led us to them, helped us to cut them from our tunnels. But recently the humming had lessened, the tunnels had started to grow silent once again and we had seen less and less activity. Many thought it was a good sign, my brothers and father included – we were winning finally, pushing them back, shortening their numbers and soon we would have our kingdom returned in its entirety. We'd take back the Thaigs and then the cities – our numbers would grow and we would prosper once again. I hadn't been convinced though. If they weren't in the tunnels it just meant they were somewhere else, and the only place they had to go was up. If they went up, then it meant…

I tightened my hand on the hilt of my blade, focusing on the humming again. They were nearer than I had first thought. As I crept around a boulder I stopped. There were three Genlocks gathered around a small form. I squinted in the dim light, trying to discern what they were doing and if the man still lived. As I looked I saw his armour and noticed the symbol on his breastplate – the Aeducan herald with my own initial overlaid! He was one of _my_ men, my personal force, the body guards my father had enlisted years ago to follow me! They had been sent with Trian the day before – _Couldn't risk buying them off eh, Bhelen?_

He looked injured, there was blood on the floor near him, he'd be no help to me even if he was alive. I looked around and saw his fallen blade not far from where I stood. It looked well made… and sharp.

I cloaked myself back in the shadows, quietly grabbing my guard's sword and moved silently up to the Genlocks.

They ripped the guard's helm from his head and stopped in surprise – the man was alive. I thanked the Ancestors for small favours. The creature in the middle shrieked in outrage and I watched the guard close his eyes in anticipation and acceptance of his fate as the beast raised his arms high above him, a crudely made sword grasped in its hands ready to be plunged into its prey.

I moved behind it and slammed my blades into its back. The other Genlocks with it shrieked and instinctively recoiled to see what had attacked their companion. The shadows faded from my form and they cried out again.

I cursed – I had never been good at maintaining the shadows in combat – and jumped back a step, gaining a defensive stance. The one to the left roared and charged at me, its sword outstretched. I easily deflected it with one blade as I turned into the creature and smashed my other dagger into the side of its throat, ripping it open, its blood spraying over the stone.

I turned to face the other, only to find the wounded guard, sitting up, leaning on a bloodied sword that he had impaled the last beast on.

'Breg?' I asked as I came to his side, crouching down next to him to appraise his injury. 'This needs urgent attention. The path back to Orzammar is clear that way. You think you can make it back on your own?'

'My Lady,' he started, 'Commander. Thank you, but I fear that your men are dead. We were attacked–'

'Let me guess; were they Bhelen's men?' He nodded and I cursed. 'Tell me.'

'I remember being with Prince Trian, we had cleared the tunnels, escorted the Grey Wardens and then Prince Trian was called away to the Western Vaults. The battalion had been making its way back when we had been approached by a contingent of Bhelen's guards. Then things got a little hazy.

'I woke up as one of the others landed on me. I was disorientated and groggy, I didn't understand what was going on until I realised that the ground was soft beneath me – I was lying on the others! We were in a hole, and a stone was being pushed over the top of it. I thought that that was how I was going to die – lying in a pit, trapped by the stone… My Lady, I _cursed_ it.'

I patted his good arm gently, 'It's okay, Breg, we all do from time to time.' He nodded and watched as I started tearing strips from the hem of my dress. 'Please, continue.'

'I don't know how long we were there, it felt like weeks. Then the Genlocks found me. They started picking us out, throwing us onto a pile. I just lay still – acted like I was dead, and then I was on the pile too. I didn't know what else to do. I had my sword still, but my arm…' He winced as I started wrapping the strips of my dress around his arm, bandaging it as best I could.

'Where are the others?' He pointed behind him. My face must have gone several shades paler as I saw them, hidden from my previous view from the path I had arrived down. My men heaped in a pile, all of them dead.

'Oh you will pay, Little Brother, for them all.'

'Commander, what has happened?'

I shook my head. 'I carry that title no longer, nor am I an Aeducan. Bhelen moved against Trian and I; Trian is dead and I am to walk the Deep Roads.'

Breg took in another shocked breath. He looked around, as if expecting someone else. 'Where is Gorim, My Lady?'

'Exiled to the surface – I was sent alone.' He made to say something, but I continued speaking. 'You're a target now too – you saw firsthand Bhelen's men betraying me.

'Return to Orzammar silently, do not alert anyone who does not need to know that you're alive.' I stared him straight in the eye, my steel blue eyes harder than he had ever seen them. 'Get this arm fixed and leave immediately for the surface. If you stay in Orzammar you risk not only your life, but those of your family too.'

Breg nodded dumbly, wincing again as I tied off the bandage. I moved to the mound of men. I knew it was dishonourable, I knew that I shouldn't, but when you were exiled to walk these roads it was a case of anything to help you last a little longer. When I returned to Breg I was clothed in the bloodied leather armour of one of my scouts. His eyes told me he understood.

'I must go now, Breg.' I held him by his arms as I looked at him, my eyes soft. A sad pride filled his own. 'Thank you for looking after me all these years.'

'It was an honour, My Lady.' He bowed deeply to me and I knew that I would always be his Commanding Officer.

* * *

The three Genlocks I fought to free Breg were the first of many I faced that day, and that was how they found me.

The Grey Wardens charged in to the thick of a fight that I was losing, and pulled me out alive. When all had settled around us, Duncan, the Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden looked at me, startled to see just who it was they had rescued.

'Lady Aeducan!'

I shook my head as I spat blood across the stone floor, wincing as I blinked and looked up at him. Blood trickled down my cheek. One of the other wardens approached me, tilting my head right back to get a look at my injury.

'Oh,' He sucked in his breath between his teeth. 'You are lucky, My Lady, a few millimetres up and you'd have lost that pretty eye of yours.' He started rummaging in the bags he carried and pulled out a vial of red liquid – a healing poultice, I surmised.

'I have come to beg your mercy, My Lord, and ask that I may join you on your journey to the surface.' I looked over at the dark skinned commander, as his companion worked on my wound.

'Have you run from your father?'

'I… I have no father; I am no longer an Aeducan.' I managed shakily; the pain of my father's face when I saw him last swam before my eyes. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. 'I am an exile.'

'I see.' He sounded thoughtful.

'Oh, sounds like there's definitely a story there!' commented one of the other wardens.

'Dwarven matters of honour are no business of ours; it is not our way to make judgements on the pasts of others.' Duncan's tone was short, a warning to their companions.

'Thank you,' I addressed the warden who had finished dealing with my eye.

'It's not great,' he tsked. 'But it will have to do down here. It'll scar I'm afraid.'

I turned to Duncan, 'I asked you the other night, if I could join your cause, you said you would speak to my father.'

'And that I did.' He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'He refused me point blank stating that you were needed in Orzammar; from what little he was saying, I _thought_ that he was indicating that he would soon be announcing you as the new heir to the throne.'

'What! Bhelen was right… No,' I whispered, stunned at the news Duncan brought me. 'I would never have accepted. I didn't want to be queen, I just wanted…' _Freedom_, I finished silently. 'I ask again, now that my position isn't a barrier anymore; may I join your cause?'

'My Lady, I would be honoured to invite you to join our order.'

* * *

I had seen the surface before, but only through the great doors of Orzammar, and always with Gorim at my side as I had wondered about my mother. Now I actually had to step out on to it with no one familiar at my side.

'She's scared of falling up, she is.' Samuel laughed as he mocked me. I scowled at him and clutched at the rocks at the front of the cave. He had been a pain in the arse to me the past three days we had spent in the Roads. Any comment he could find to make about my people, he made. I clutched the blade I carried, thinking how nice it would be to throw at his throat.

'I am _not_ scared of falling up.' I really wasn't. I knew it was such a silly idea to think that you'd just drift off into the thing they called the sky. My mother had been from the surface and she hadn't floated away.

'My Lady,' Duncan's soft voice murmured, he extended his hand to aid me in making my first steps onto the surface.

'Nyra, Duncan, please. And I'm not scared of falling upwards, I'm really not.' He nodded at me, his hand still offered. 'I just…' I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and worried it. How do you explain to a bunch of surface dwellers your feelings about this whole crazy thing?

A breeze blew through the air and made my hair whip around my face. My eyes widened in surprise and the three other wardens started to chuckle again. I growled slightly, brushing my hair away, and Duncan glared at them, quickly silencing their laughter.

'The stone to me is how the Maker is to you humans. The stone is what we return to when our time is up, it is filled with the honour and guidance of my ancestors, and by stepping out onto that soft dirt I am leaving them behind. _That's_ what makes me hesitate.' My fingers again flexed against the stone of the cave opening as I peered at them all, hoping that they understood. 'And it's darker than I thought.'

That's what made Duncan laugh. 'It's because it's night.' He sighed as I still refused to move. 'Nyra, under this dirt _is_ the stone. We could dig for a long time, but we would find it. The stone is what supports this land; it is what gives strength to the walls of our cities and our homes. You are not leaving it behind; you are merely stepping up a level. As you step up from High Commander of the Dwarven Armies to Grey Warden of Ferelden – you still fight the Darkspawn still but on a higher level.'

I mulled over his words as I peered out into the world above the stone. Finally I took a deep breath before putting my hand in his and taking my first step onto the surface.

It was now official in my mind; Orzammar could be my home no longer.

* * *

We had travelled for four more weeks before we arrived at Ostagar. We'd had to take a detour to the Circle of Magi just after we had left the Deep Roads to fix an unfortunate accident Samuel had with my blade. Duncan hadn't been happy, but it had certainly made me feel better.

As we got closer to the Ferelden army camp I heard Duncan mentioning the King of Ferelden, Cailan Theirin.

'What?' I asked, running up to him at the front of our group. 'You didn't say anything about Cailan being present with the army.'

'I, err, didn't think it would be a problem, Nyra.' I pulled Duncan to one side; he motioned for the rest of our party to continue onwards towards the camp.

'We might have a problem, Duncan…'


	3. Chapter III: Royal History

_This chapter fills in some of Nyra's back-story. When I reached Cailan and I heard he had never met my warden or been to Orzammar I thought, that's strange – surely as future King he would want to meet his Neighbour – especially as their kingdom runs right under his! Therefore in my mind, Nyra _had _met Cailan and this is when and how it happened._

_

* * *

_

Chapter Three – Royal History

'Oh! So you had met King Cailan before then?' Lowena asked, quite surprised. Dwarves were known to rarely welcome the presence of humans into the walls of Orzammar, preferring the surface dwarves to trade with them – despite their outcast status. 'So what did you have to tell Duncan?'

'That eight years ago, when he had visited Orzammar with his father, I had nearly run off to the surface with Cailan to be his mistress,' Nyra said casually.

'That.' She nudged Alistair, nodding to Lowena. 'That right there is the face that Duncan had.'

'Oh, yes,' Alistair smirked. 'You're right; you _do_ have to see it. Priceless.' The pair giggled as Lowena shook her head, pulling the thoughts that had just scattered everywhere back together.

'I guess that she's going to want more of an explanation too,' Nyra sighed. Alistair squeezed her reassuringly and Nyra looked at him. Sadness in her eyes, worry lining her face.

'It's okay, my dear.' He cupped her face in his large calloused hand, and she nuzzled into it, pressing soft kisses into his palm. Alistair had heard the story long ago and it had shocked him, angered him, and driven him to the point where he had almost walked away from her and their cause. He had gotten over it, but still Nyra worried that if the tale was told it would mar what little time they had left together before their Calling. Lowena watched the silent exchange between the pair completely still. The ink dripped from her quill onto the page, but she was too frightened to break the spell. Finally Nyra sighed, it was his choice.

Nyra turned to face the Scholar, 'So, it was eight years before that day at Ostagar,' she started. 'King Maric came to Orzammar to present his son, who had just turned twenty-one and come of age, to my father and the nobles. After everything that Maric had seen during the Rebellion and years later in the Deep Roads, he knew that an alliance with the dwarva was the best bet against any blight that might arrive…'

* * *

The sword came crashing towards my head and I dived out the way, cursing as I dropped my broadsword.

'My Lady, you need to remember that you're not using daggers,' Gorim remarked as his sword swept towards me. I jumped back and turned, running from his attack. I tried to circle back for my blade, but he was quick and cut me off, charging at me again. I dropped to the floor, falling into a roll as I felt the blade cut through the air above my head. I heard him curse and smiled as I realised he too was tiring, the great heavy blade much different to his usual longsword and shield. I made for my heavy blade and grabbed it, turning to face him. My arms ached with its weight, but I raised it to challenge him once more.

There was a glimmer in his eye; he, too, knew we were both using the last of our strength; this was our last stand.

We circled each other, neither one wanting to make the first move. Finally the tension killing me I slashed at him. He blocked the move easily, but weakly as I managed to force it down between us, our swords crossing and our bodies leaning into them trying to force the other into defeat. Our bodies were close, our faces closer, so close I could smell him; steal and smoke with overtones of sweat from our exertion. My heart pounded and my chest heaved at the effort of trying to push his sword lower at such a strange angle.

He looked at me and licked his lips, my eyes dropped to them, and, not for the first time, the thought of them on mine flickered through my head. He let out a low growl as I slipped my tongue out over my own, drawing my eyes back to his – he was looking at my mouth. I felt time standing still as he moved his face towards mine; I held my breath…

'Ah, there you are, Daughter!' my father's voice interrupted us, causing me to look towards him and see him standing with Trian and two humans! Gorim took the moment of distraction to use the last of his strength to throw me back. I lost my footing and fell heavily on my behind, twisting my ankle awkwardly.

I let out a sharp hiss as I threw my blade away and grabbed at my ankle. Gorim knelt beside me quickly whilst my father and his companions hurried to my side.

'My Lady, I apologise, I did not mean to hurt you.'

'You got lucky, that's all,' I bit out, my face burning with embarrassment. 'If I had been using my daggers I'd have had you.'

'I believe you would, My Lady,' he bowed his head to me.

'Call for a stretcher, Trian.'

'No!' I called out, standing up with my Second's help and a pair of hands I was unfamiliar with. 'I can walk back- Ow!' My foot instinctively lifted as soon as I put my weight upon it.

'Nyra, I insist.' My father tutted as I shook my head and waved my hand at him, gritting my teeth through the dull throbbing.

'Allow me to aid you, My Lady,' came the rich, velvety tones of one of my father's companions. I looked up at him finally and took a breath. Sporting long blond hair and the roughness of stubble, he took my breath away. Unable to speak, I let him slip his arm under my own to allow me to lean upon him. I took a tentative step and fell into him. He caught me graciously, smiling at me, his dark brown eyes warm and friendly. I smiled back at him, feeling the red creeping into my cheeks.

'Perhaps, you'll allow me to…' I didn't get a chance to answer; he scooped me up into his arms like I was nothing and carried me through to my rooms following the directions of my father.

'But, ser, I am covered in dust and–'

'Hush, My Lady, your ankle is my concern, not dust.'

I could feel Gorim's and Trian's disapproving looks on me, but I didn't care, I could only look at the human, who smiled at me like I was the only thing in the world that could make him do that.

He placed me delicately onto a chair, moved a table forward and perched himself upon it, resting my foot in his lap. My father fussed around me, calling for servants and medics to aid me, whilst Trian shouted at Gorim for causing such a problem. Normally I would have defended my faithful Second to the hilt, but the human who had carried me back to my rooms held my attention as he ran his fingers gently over my swollen ankle. There was so much noise, and yet I heard none of it.

'Wiggle these cute little toes for me.' Surprised at myself, I giggled as I wiggled them and he pinched one. 'Can you feel that?' I nodded. 'Well, I'm no medic or healer, but I can tell it's not broken.'

'That's good.' I finally managed.

'It certainly is.' He pulled a cushion from off another chair and placed it under my foot, placing it on the table as he stood and moved away. A medic appeared two seconds later.

After a number of soothing balms and packs of ice, rushed in from the mountains outside, were applied, the room finally settled. Gorim stood behind my chair, my father and Trian sat on one couch to my right, whilst the humans sat on another to my left. I felt like a queen commanding an audience.

'Yes, I am fine, Father,' I assured him for the millionth time. 'Why don't you introduce me to our guests?' I looked at the young human man who had carried me back again.

'Oh yes, my apologies, Maric.' He nodded to the elder human.

'Maric, Cailan, may I present to you, Lady Nyra Aeducan, Princess of Orzammar. Nyra, this is King Maric Theirin of Ferelden, and his son Prince Cailan Theirin.' They both rose and bowed to me. I blushed as Cailan looked back up at me, through his long hair, and winked. I stifled another unexpected giggle and politely nodded my head at them both, bidding them to sit once again.

'Atrast Vala, Your Highnesses. Forgive me for not being able to receive you properly, My Lords, but I am training for a commission within my father's forces, so I must take every opportunity I get.'

'You are a very able fighter from what your father has told me. You do well in your current position within the army's ranks,' replied Maric. 'I'm sorry we did not arrive sooner to witness your fight.'

'Nyra was training in the broadsword today,' Trian informed them sharply. 'She does not favour it, and requires a more experienced tutor, I fear.' He glared over my shoulder to Gorim. I shifted uncomfortably.

'No, I prefer the smaller blades. They feel more like they belong in my hands. I find they need more agility and grace in their use by having to get close to your target to inflict any damage. A sword, be it a long or broad blade, feels too chunky and clumsy in my hand.'

'Oh,' Cailan spoke, his eyes boring into my own. 'A duellist? Deadly _and_ beautiful, I see.' I blushed again.

Father led the conversation then, but I barely paid attention, I could feel Cailan's eyes roaming over me every now and again whilst Gorim's hand tightened on the back of my chair. I nibbled at my lip unable to stop my eyes wandering over to the human prince every so often. I hadn't been looked at like that before; someone so openly desiring me, making me very aware of my body in my thin training tunic and britches. Although I looked a mess, my top sticking to me, my trousers covered in dust and grime from rolling on the floor and my hair all over the place, I felt like a beautiful woman, not a girl, a woman.

'I remember you,' I said suddenly, interrupting the discussion. 'You pulled my pigtails.'

The group spluttered into laughter – except for Trian.

'Ah, yes,' Cailan smiled, having the courtesy to blush slightly. 'I was very curious about your hair. I was fascinated by how a five-year-old could have such bright white hair. I had only seen old ladies with hair such a colour before.'

My father shifted uncomfortably. 'My hair is indeed very… unique, My Lord.'

'Please,' he leaned over to me, covering my hand with his; I shivered as his thumb caressed it slightly, 'Call me Cailan.'

'Thank you, Cailan.'

* * *

Thankfully the balms had done their work and my ankle was much better by the evening when the festivities were to begin. My father had planned a number of feasts in honour of our human guests and a Grand Proving to be held at the end of their stay.

The first, that evening, was attended by almost every noble man and woman that Orzammar had; each of them trying to win favour with my father and King Maric, each for their own reasons, none for the sake of their city.

'I don't actually know a lot about humans,' I said to Gorim without thinking. 'I know what father tells me about his _experience_ with them, but I've only ever met those two,' I waved over towards Cailan and King Maric. 'It doesn't really give me the widest view of them does it?'

'What is it that you wish to know, My Lady?' Gorim asked politely as he refilled my goblet with ale. He refused to serve me the human wine, for it was, he said, far stronger than anything I'd tried before.

'Well, why are we so cautious of them? They seem well enough. They have two arms and legs, a head and a heart; they are just taller than we and live on the surface – what makes them so bad?'

'In all honesty, My Lady, I don't know where it goes back to. Perhaps it is as their religion says, that the Darkspawn come from them, from their people failing to become the gods they wished to be. Because of them our roads are cursed with their taint.'

'It does seem unfair that their Maker would punish the Children of the Stone though. For what did we do?'

'Perhaps he didn't know of us, he cannot see us here in Orzammar, protected under the stone.'

'So because of their ancestors' failings we treat them with disdain? Surely there must be something good about them. I mean, my father-'

'I am sure that there are many good men, and women, among them, but still they forget our plight. From what I hear, their Chantries go on and on about the Maker, about how he walked away from them, about the Golden City turned black and corrupted, and how the people who trespassed there were sent beneath the surface to stalk the Deep Roads, tainted with evil, and yet they never come to fix their transgressions, they never send forth men to aid us to try and rectify their errors.'

'Then perhaps that's why their Maker doesn't return.'

'A beautiful warrior and now a theologist too – will you ever stop surprising me?' Cailan interrupted us. I blushed at his words. 'Please, explain why you think the Maker leaves us.'

I took a sip of my ale, looking at him over the rim of my goblet, carefully picking my words. 'Gorim pointed out,' I managed, 'that the humans, by declaration of your own Chantry, caused the Darkspawn taint that we face every day down here in the Deep Roads, that they are the reason that we lost our cities and thaigs, that our people died and suffered and were robbed of what is rightfully theirs.' A number of nobles began to focus upon our conversation, noticing the attention Cailan was giving to us, and what I was discussing with him. 'And yet, they allow us to fight them alone, until they become so great in number that they spill out onto the Surface creating, what you call, a 'Blight'.'

The nobles around me murmured in agreement. Cailan nodded his head, acknowledging my point. 'I see, and what has that to do with the Maker forsaking us?' he questioned.

'Well, perhaps, because you ignore the Darkspawn, because you forget that you caused the taint, that you're the reason for them festering away down here, looking for the 'old gods' as you name them, the Maker refuses to return. Perhaps once your people accept your errors, put a step in the direction of resolving your ancestors' sins, the Maker will see that mankind has repented, that they wish to set things right for him and will return to you, to guide you again.'

Cailan sat up straight; he regarded me for a moment, his eyes narrowed. The nobles around me held their breaths, waiting for his reaction. He broke into a broad smile and clapped his hands. The nobles released their breaths and also applauded my logic.

'I will certainly have to bring this up to the Revered Mother in Denerim. Although it might blow her mind. Fancy the dwarva bringing forth the return of the Maker they deny so!' My cheeks burned red again. 'As I said before, a beautiful warrior with a brilliant mind. My Lady, if you were human I would marry you this instant, for surely there is not another such as you in all of Thedas.' The nobles murmured their approval of his compliment to me, their princess. If my cheeks had glowed any brighter, they could have used me as a beacon in the Deep Roads.

'How is your ankle?'

'Much better now, thank you.'

'Then perhaps you will do me the honour of a dance?' Cailan stood and offered me his hand which I accepted and allowed him to lead me away from the group.

'I am sure that our dances here are very different from your own, Cailan,' I offered as we approached the merriment of the dancing area. 'Perhaps it would be wise to–'

My words ended with a squeal as he spun me around and clapped in time with the other men twirling their partners. He bowed to me before standing behind me, hands on my hips. I remembered, quickly, my part in the dance, stunned by the fact that he knew our traditional steps. I turned and pushed him, before stepping forwards; my ankle gave way slightly and he caught me in his arms. I looked up at him through my lashes, embarrassed by my clumsiness. His hand brushed away the hair clinging to my face and skimmed my cheek. I took a deep shuddering breath before pushing myself up and standing back on my own two feet.

Falling back into step, I turned my back to him and pushed my bottom towards him, wiggling my hips. I smiled as I heard him hiss as my hips gently moved against him.

* * *

We danced another number before we decided to stop for a drink. We spent the rest of the evening talking and dancing, regaling one another of stories of our pasts, our kingdoms and our desires for the future.

It was during our talking of the futures that we fell silent.

'They're not much different are they?' he asked and I shook my head.

Both of us, bound by duty to our thrones, would end up marrying and producing heirs – even if I wasn't to be queen – with people we neither loved nor cared for, and there was not a thing we could do about it. We looked glumly at one another, the thought sobering us.

'My Lady,' Gorim approached us quietly. I had completely forgotten about him being present that evening, even though I had spent the first half with him. 'The other ladies are leaving the festivities; it is time for me to escort you to your rooms.'

'Perhaps I could walk you, Nyra?' Cailan asked, standing as I did. I stopped, shocked, whilst Gorim's head snapped around to look at the human prince, his eyes wide in disbelief.

'I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but you would presume to walk an unmarried woman back to her rooms?' my Second questioned, his voice an octave higher than normal.

'I am guessing that that is not appropriate in your culture then?' he asked a little sheepishly. Gorim shook his head, his mouth still agape at the presumption.

'No, Cailan, bad form!' I jested, eliciting a broader smile from him. Gorim took his place half a step behind me. 'Goodnight, Cailan, I had a lovely evening.' He bowed low, taking my hand and pressing his lips to it.

'Goodnight, Nyra, the pleasure was all mine.'

Distracted by thoughts of Cailan I stood in front of the door to my rooms without knowing how I got there. Gorim cleared his throat to gain my attention and I blushed, realising that I had ignored him the entire time.

'It is okay, My Lady, I understand. He is an attractive man… for a human.'

I waved my hand, dismissing his statement, hoping he couldn't see my red cheeks, 'I was just thinking about what to do with him during the next couple of days.' Before we had managed to leave the hall, Trian had grabbed us, asking me to look after Cailan whilst he attended to other pressing matters. At any other time I might have questioned him, asked him what could be so important for him to neglect his duties as heir to the crown, but I was delighted by the idea of spending more time with the human prince.

'It might be an idea to show him the city, My Lady. Perhaps start with the Shaperate?'

'Gorim,' I sighed. 'Why, even when we're alone, do you not use my name like I have asked?'

'Because it would be inappropriate for your name to be on my lips.' He hesitated before he said his next words, 'Perhaps I would like it too much and I would forget myself when others were around.'

'Gorim…' I had no idea what to say to him. It had been a little over a year ago that I had started to develop feelings towards my Second, but had dismissed them, fearing he would never return them. There had been times that I thought I had seen the same in him, only for them to be dashed a moment later by a look or comment from him that suggested otherwise – he was only there to do his duty.

'My Lady?'

'Nyra,' I pleaded in whisper, 'just once.' I leaned towards him instinctively.

'Nyra,' he whispered gruffly, closing the gap between us…

'No, he's not down this way – try down the east wing.' A voice from further up the corridor pulled us from the moment.

'Goodnight, My Lady.' Gorim bent and took my hand in his, pressing a kiss upon it. 'I will see you in the morning.'

'Goodnight, Gorim,' I said back, turning and entering my rooms, wondering what had just happened.

* * *

Those two days found me causing quite a scandal throughout Orzammar. I found myself entranced by Cailan and took far greater care of my appearance than I had ever before, ordering maids to fix my hair and makeup, wearing dresses instead of armour to display my womanly curves.

I showed him Orzammar – or as much as I was allowed to with our statuses – walking with my hand tucked within his arm, as if he was my betrothed, laughing and openly flirting with him. I was even so bold as to allow him to brush my cheek with a kiss right in the middle of the Hall of Heroes, the Paragons all staring down at us.

'Come on,' Cailan laughed as he tried to pull me through the great entrance hall of Orzammar. 'It's _not_ scary, I promise you!'

'No!' I squealed, laughter bubbling from my lips as I tugged back. 'It's not right, I'm of the _Dwarva_ – we don't just take day trips to the surface!'

'But you're missing out on so much!' He grinned at me, and with one big heave he pulled me to him and lifted me into his arms as he had done when we first met. I kicked my feet in mock protest as he grinned down at me.

'As Princess of Orzammar, I demand that you unhand me, you brute!' I held my hand to my forehead and feigned dismay. Guards approached us, their hands on the swords, not understanding the situation.

'Err, yes okay.'

I laughed as he placed me down gently, holding up his hands to the men on duty. I waved them off; reassuring them he wasn't kidnapping me. Gorim's face remained neutral; he had held the same face the last two days, even when returning me to my rooms, annoying me to no end.

The huge doors that opened out into the Frozen Teeth – or the Frostback Mountains as the humans called them – were wide open, allowing traders to come and go through them. They gave us a wide berth as they hurried to and from their destinations.

'It's very bright.' I squinted into the mountains a few steps away from the doors. 'And cold,' I remarked, as a gust of wind blew in across the peaks, causing me to shiver. Cailan waved his hand to a servant who produced a beautiful shawl a moment later; he had obviously expected my reaction. He draped it around my shoulders, and instantly the biting wind lost some of its ferocity.

He smiled as I buried my blushing face into its softness. 'A gift, My Lady.'

'Thank you, My Lord.'

'Come,' he stepped forward, holding out his hand. 'I want to see your face in the sunlight.'

'Pardon?'

'I want to see the sun bathe your face in its rays, I want to see it's light dance over your hair and cause your eyes to sparkle.'

'I – I'm not going out _there_!' I took a step back, aghast that he would suggest such a thing. The stone was who I was, who I would be, and where I would return. I would not step from it. Gorim stepped forward to my side, his brows drawn into a frown. It was clear that he was suddenly very uncomfortable with my being here.

'Why not? Are you really afraid of falling up?'

'Don't be silly,' I dismissed his question. 'It's just that I shall not be stepping forth off the stone.' He looked at me, his head cocked to one side. He looked down at my feet and then out towards the steps that lead down from our city.

'You won't step off the stone, hmm?' He rubbed his chin, as he assessed the problem. After a moment he turned and stepped out of the doorway, his face pointed to the sun. I marvelled by how bright his hair became in its light. He turned back towards me and smiled. 'The stone you stand on now is the stone that reaches these steps, the same stone I'm standing on. Would My Lady care to step through the door now? You are still on the stone of your beloved Orzammar, and yet you please me by allowing me to see you in the light of _my_ land.'

I looked at his feet and swept my eyes over the distance between us. He _was_ right. The same stone that I stood on extended out to where he stood – just a few steps from the Great Doors. _Technically_ I wouldn't be leaving the stone. I wouldn't be stepping onto the surface, but I would be leaving Orzammar–

'Don't you dare, My Lady,' Gorim told me firmly, grabbing my elbow and pulling me further back inside, his eyes flashed with anger, possessiveness and jealousy and his hand scorched my skin, warming me better than the shawl that sat around my shoulders.

I saw the guards give him an approving look, and suddenly I was furious; who was in charge here?

'How _dare_ you!' I pulled my arm out of his grip. 'How dare you touch me, I am your princess, I will not tolerate that sort of behaviour! You will do well to remember your place!' I sneered as I gathered my skirts in my hands and turned back to face Cailan. 'My Lord.' I extended my hand to him and he took it. Lifting my chin I stepped past the doors and onto the stone at his side.

He took in a breath as he turned my face to the sun, my eyes blinking rapidly as they filled with water from the brightness of the light. 'Beautiful, even more so than I dared believed–'

'That's _enough_!' Gorim grabbed me, pulled me away from Cailan's grasp, spun me around, and, before I knew what was happening, he flung me over his shoulder and marched back inside the giant doors. 'You are right, My Lady, you _are_ the princess, the Princess of _Orzammar_, and as such you will remember _your_ place – _inside_ the city!'

'Put me down!' I screamed, my fists pummelling his back whilst he had hold of my legs, stopping me from kicking out.

'Unhand her at once!' Cailan moved to withdraw his sword, and three of Orzammar's finest guards descended upon him, blocking his path. 'How dare you?'

'The safety of the Princess is of the utmost, _human_ lord, she will be returned by her Second to her father.'

* * *

I was confined to my rooms for two nights and three days. No feasts, no training and absolutely _no_ Cailan. I was to read the books sent to me from the Shaperate so that I would remember what it was to be of the stone.

Gorim stood outside my rooms, keeping watch, and ensuring that I fulfilled my punishment. It was the third afternoon, just a few hours before I was free again, that Cailan arrived at my door.

'What do you want, human lord?' I heard Gorim ask. It took a moment for me to realise he had said human lord. I threw my book down and bounded to my door, my ear pressed against it.

'I have come to see, Nyra.' It _was_ Cailan. I held my breath, excited by his presence and yet at the same time worried by it. Should he cause too much bother, Gorim may report him and I could be locked away until his party left to ensure my safety. My father had been furious at my actions, reminding me how important I was to the people of Orzammar, how there may have been bandits or mercenaries around; I would be worth a pretty penny after all. At first I had been grounded for the remainder of their stay, until, surprisingly, Trian had stepped forward and argued in my favour.

'The princess is not to leave for another,' Gorim paused for a moment, I assumed to confirm something, 'three and a half hours. She will be ready to be present at the Feast this evening, you may see her then.'

'You're joking. You're timing her confinement?'

'It is the King's orders.'

'Look, I just want to apologise. I would have come sooner but I was also restricted to my rooms by my father.'

'But you sent three missives, ser, surely you'd have been able to apologise in them.' I frowned, I hadn't received any letters and then I groaned quietly as I realised Gorim had found and kept them.

'How– They were for Nyra's eyes only.' Cailan's voice was a low growl.

'I didn't read them, they are here,' I heard rustling, 'still sealed, waiting until Lady Aeducan is no longer under the terms of her reprimand – which include no communication. I understand that the terms of Lady Aeducan's detention were relayed to you.'

'You know damn well they were, you arrogant little thing, you told me them yourself.'

I imagined Gorim squaring himself up, his hand twitching for his blade, knowing he couldn't use it. Little, stout, small or any other words of the sort, were not favoured in Orzammar, especially when directed to us by _humans_. I bit my own lip at the insult, but knew that Cailan was just frustrated.

'I demand to see her _immediately_.'

'Your demands mean nothing here,_ Your Highness_,' Gorim sneered. 'You are not _my_ prince.'

'Both of you, stop bickering, you're giving me a headache!' I snapped through the thick door of my room, trying to stop the argument before they came to blows. 'Gorim, just let him in, I'll take any flak father gives-'

I heard the key in the lock and moved back from the door, hurrying to tie my robe around me. I wasn't surprised when Gorim slipped in; I was when he turned the lock again.

'What are you doing?' I hissed, keeping my voice low to stop Cailan from over hearing us – although like me, he probably had his ear to the door.

'I am following your father's orders, My Lady, just like my position requires.' He crossed his arms over his chest.

'You're supposed to follow _my_ orders.'

'Not if they're superseded by your father.'

I snorted. 'And since when have you done that?'

'Since you put yourself in danger,'

'Stop treating me like a child,' I stamped my slippered foot, and then realised that wasn't the best thing to have done.

'Then stop acting like one,' he growled as he brought his arms down to his side. I watched his fingers clenching and unclenching.

My cheeks flamed red in embarrassment, but I continued. 'I am fed up with everyone acting like they know what's best for me. I am Lady Nyra Aeducan, the Princess of Orzammar, and nearly a captain in its armies. I am fed up of people thinking that I cannot take care of myself.'

'Nyra,' I heard through the doors. 'In my eyes you are _all_ woman; the woman who commands my heart.'

'Oh, Cailan,' I sighed and took a step towards the door.

Gorim's hand wrapped around my arm causing me to look at him; I saw the jealousy in his eyes, the longing that he had to be able to say such words to me as freely as Cailan did, and the desire he had for me.

I don't know how it happened, but his lips where on mine, soft and tender, his kiss filled with love and care as his hands slid around my waist, over the silk of my gown. I slipped my arms over his shoulders and played with the hair at the nape of his neck, eliciting a soft purr from him.

_Yes_, I thought, _yes _this_ is what I want_; his fingers caressed my hips sending warm shivers through my stomach to the top of my legs and made me ache in desire for him.

I gasped as his lips pulled from mine and nibbled my jaw and down my neck. His hands reached for the belt of my robe and with a gentle tug it opened to reveal the slip that I wore underneath. He looked down through heavy lids and appraised me.

'No, _not_ a child,' he murmured, his hands sliding back over my hips and pulling me towards him, my body fitting against him perfectly, allowing me to feel just how much he desired me. 'Definitely a woman.'

The knock on the door and Cailan calling my name startled me, I turned my head in its direction; my arms still around my Second, his hands under my robe, resting on my hips, my body flush against his. I felt Gorim shift and I turned back, his eyes where neutral and distant. I pulled away from him furious.

'How dare you play me!' I exploded, taking a step away from him. 'Get out now!'

'Nyra,' he started, as his hands dropped from my waist. 'It is always my duty–'

'Stop it!' I screamed, holding my hands over my ears. I heard Cailan bang on the door and calling my name, demanding the door be opened. 'I don't want to be anyone's _duty_.' I turned to Gorim, pleading with him to understand what I was saying. 'I want to be something to someone, something _more_ to them than their duty; I want to be their… _everything_! I want to be the thing they live for because they feel it here!' I pointed to my heart. 'Not because someone tells them that's their job, their role in Orzammar.'

I walked to the door, unlocked it and threw it open.

Cailan stood in the doorway, hands holding onto either side of the frame, his eyes wide with worry. 'Are you okay?' he asked, taking me in.

'I'm fine. Gorim, get out.' I refused to look at him.

Cailan turned to him, he looked furious. 'Just what did you do to her?'

'My duty,' my Second said as he walked past me and into the corridor, turning back to look at me. 'You may have the _body_ of a woman, Nyra,' Cailan looked ready to hit him at his comment and use of my given name, 'but you are not of the _mind_ yet. You have to realise _your_ place, your _role_ within this city. Once you do that you'll be the woman that some claim you are.' He looked at Cailan. 'I wish you happiness, My Lady, whatever you choose to do with your life.'

* * *

The rest of the afternoon I spent alone in my rooms. When it came time to attend that evening's feast I waited nervously for Gorim to arrive to escort me. I had no idea what I was going to say to him. I thought about our kiss over and over again; my hips still burned where he had held them, my lips still tingled from his, and the thought of how it felt so right lingered in my mind. I needn't have worried, for after half an hour of waiting he still hadn't arrived and I had to make my own way to the festivities – alone.

The room filled with disapproving murmurings when I entered the hall, unescorted and late, there would certainly be gossip, but I kept my chin high as I walked towards my father. He did not smile as he greeted me, but pulled me to one side.

'Where is Gorim?' he demanded, annoyed that his daughter would be the object of gossip.

'I don't know, he never arrived to escort me.'

'What happened? He was supposed to be watching your rooms.'

'He did, until my curfew broke, and then… he left me to get ready,' I lied. He looked me over knowing I wasn't telling him everything, for I was a terrible liar.

'Go and enjoy yourself, child, I will deal with his neglecting of duties later.'

I bit my lip as I walked away from him, worry clouding my face.

'My Lady,' Cailan appeared in front of me, bowing deeply. 'You seem troubled, may I be of some assistance?'

I smiled at him, the burden suddenly disappearing from my shoulders as I gazed into his dark eyes that were filled with care and admiration. _He doesn't see me as a duty, he sees me as I am,_ I thought, as he took my hand and led me to his table to sit with him and his father as my own dealt with other matters. I enjoyed the evening immensely, finally trying the sweet human wine that sent my head slightly spinning – although that could also have been put down to Calian's hand slipping under the table to caress my leg when the opportunity afforded itself.

When the women began to leave Cailan whispered in my ear, 'Let's slip away, I'll walk you back to your rooms…'

I giggled, my head a little light from the human wine as we half ran, half walked from the throne room. We rounded a corner, free of guards, and he spun me around, pulling me against him as he leaned into an alcove. He bent his head to mine, brushing my lips with his. A shot of lightening surged through me.

'Nyra,' he whispered, his nose nudged mine as his eyes dropped to my lips. 'I have never met anyone like you, anyone who has captivated me so thoroughly. These last few days… I have never been so happy! By the Maker; I wish that I could take you to Ferelden with me.'

I took in a shaky breath, my own eyes drawn to his lips. 'If I could leave, I would, in a heartbeat.'

He groaned before crushing his lips against mine. I moaned against him, wrapping my arms around him as his tightened around me, lifting me up slightly to meet him. It was a heady, dizzying moment; the feel of his hands on my hips, moving up my back, holding me tightly, whilst his lips ravished mine. My fingers ran though his longish hair and clung to him as a wave of emotion washed over me; I wanted more of him.

'Nyra,' His lips traced my jaw line and nipped at my ear. 'I want you to come with me – I want you to come to Ferelden and stay with me.' His breath was hot in my ear as he whispered his words. 'I'm heir to a throne, but you're not, you could leave and we could be together.'

I mewed in pleasure as his lips travelled further downwards, following the neckline of my dress. His words were tempting when he did that; I couldn't think, I could only feel what he was doing and it felt _good_. Our mouths met again, and I shuddered in desire as his tongue slipped over my parted lips and tangled against my own.

Suddenly he pulled away, replacing his lips with his fingers to silence me before I could speak. He turned his head and then I heard it too; our fathers' voices, talking heatedly.

'If it was _your_ daughter you wouldn't be taking this so lightly,' my father spoke. 'You'd be as I am, worried about the intentions of the Prince.'

'Endrin, I assure you, there is nothing there; he is merely being a gracious guest.' Maric replied.

I giggled, and Cailan smiled, kissing my nose playfully.

'Really and _that's_ why I've had her Second just resign his position due to feeling he's inadequate for the job because he's at a loss as to what to do with their antics. The poor guy's sick with worry over the whole thing.'

'What?' I whispered. That's why he hadn't escorted me – that was why my father was away most of the evening. He had been dealing with Gorim _resigning_ from his place at my side.

'You worry too much, old friend. I am perfectly sure that your daughter is very wary of humans as are most of your people. As soon as we're gone life will go back to normal for her, training and fighting, with her faithful Second at her side again.

'And besides, Cailan has been betrothed to a very beautiful young woman for a _very_ long time.'

I froze for a moment, I hadn't just heard that; Cailan groaned rubbing his hand across his eyes and I realised I had. I pulled out of his embrace.

I heard my father let out a long frustrated sigh. 'Maric, my friend, you know as well as I do that being betrothed to a woman doesn't make her your heart's desire – or your _trousers'_. You also have no idea about my daughter – trust me when I say a human would never put her off; not if she really takes after me as much as people say. Come let me explain to you; seventeen years ago there was a terrible storm gripping the mountains…'

Their voices trailed off and we were left alone again. I let out the breath I had been holding, and Cailan did the same.

'Nyra, let me explain.'

'You just asked me to come to the surface with you even though you're engaged?'

'Yes,'

'I… don't understand.'

'Nyra, I want you to come and reside with us, in the palace as my… courtesan.'

'What's that?'

'I'll tell you what it is.' Gorim appeared around the corner, his sword drawn and ready to strike should the need be. His appearance surprised me after hearing my father's words, but it was his own words that stunned me. 'It's a mistress, or an elevated concubine.'

'What?'

'Yes, I think that's the _closest_ description of it in your words.' Cailan confirmed, seeing the disgust on my face he hastened his explanation, 'But it's not the same! Courtesans are respected, they hold positions of power; some advise on politics or military matters, some become poetesses or great writers, others have even been the mothers of heirs to the throne. You would be treated as you are now, like a princess. You'd be accepted by all and respected by many. Before the Orlaisian occupation, it was quite the norm for kings to have them.' He spoke quickly trying to convince me. 'And you could carry on fighting if you wanted too – there are always places in the armies. My own mother was a great warrior.'

'That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! You want me to give up my family, my life here, to be your… allowed mistress?'

'You can come back and visit, as often as you liked, I'd never stop you – just so long as you came back to me.' He smiled tenderly, brushing my cheek delicately with his hand. Gorim's sword came up again and Cailan quickly stepped back.

'You don't understand, Cailan. Unless you're marching as an army, once you go to the surface you cannot return – you're not permitted to just flutter in and out. You're exiled. What you're asking is for me to give up my life to spend it with you.'

'Would that be such a bad thing? Would _this_, whenever we wanted, be such a terrible thing to get in return?' I felt myself weaken as he looked at me with such desire and passion, I couldn't look away from him. I wanted him, I wanted everything he said. I wanted to be free to love whomever I wanted, whomever or whatever they may be.

'Do you want me to go and get your father, My Lady?' Gorim's words snapped me out of the trance. He was looking at me, but not in the eyes. His face was drawn in an angry line, but his eyes were dismayed by the fact that I was considering the offer.

'You'd betray me, Gorim?' My words made him meet my gaze.

'No, My Lady, never! I do everything I do to protect you, even if it that means protecting you from yourself.' He looked away again, licking his lips. 'Perhaps, My Lady, you should sleep on such a decision.'

Slowly I nodded, my head spinning.

'Then I await your answer, Nyra,' Cailan took my hand in his, 'my sweet.' He bowed and kissed it. He looked at Gorim annoyed by the disruption his entrance had caused, and then turned and walked away to his rooms.

Gorim made to stop me, but I glared at him, remembering his actions earlier and my father's words.

'What are you doing stalking the corridors at this time?'

'As your Second, I thou–'

'My Second? I thought you resigned your position?' I sneered at him. 'Too much for you am I? Unable to bend me to your will?'

'Nyra, it's not like that.'

'Don't you dare use my name, you have no right now.'

'Your father didn't accept my resignation, I am still–'

'Well I do.'

And with that I turned and fled back to my rooms, my mind whirling in confusion, shock and disappointment. There was so much I wanted and so little I could have.

* * *

The eve prior to Cailan's party leaving held the Grand Proving. Everyone was there and we were to use the event as our distraction. My bags were ready and waiting for Cailan and his man to come and fetch them. We were to leave tonight, a letter left to his father would explain his actions, whilst my own writings would tell my father that I followed his lead, I was giving my heart to a human, but unlike him I was going to have the freedom to give it entirely.

The knock on my door signalled their arrival. I flung it open, ready to welcome the human prince with open arms, and was stunned when I saw Gorim instead. He opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes saw my packed belongings.

'You're going then?' he spluttered as I dragged him inside, not wanting anyone to overhear him. 'I didn't think… I thought you'd stay.'

'What for, Gorim?' I asked, hands on hips. 'What is there to keep me here? Fighting in the Deep Roads? Marrying some noble and producing potential heirs? Trapped listening to my brothers going on and on about the assembly and their policies and whatever other mundane things happen there. Oh it's all so tempting against freedom.' I turned around to check my bags. I pulled a note addressed to him from my bag and left it on the chair for him to find when I left.

'Freedom? What by being a _courtesan_?' He sneered at the word. 'It's just another gilded cage, My Lady.'

'Don't call me _that_, as of tonight I'm just Nyra. No title. No family name. Just Nyra.'

'Nyra,' he said my name gruffly, causing my heart to flip. I briefly looked over my shoulder at him. 'He doesn't offer you what you want; he doesn't give you anything you don't have here–'

'He offers me his heart, Gorim,' I interrupted him and turned back to my luggage. 'He's giving me a position where I can be who I am and yet free to love him without consequence. He'll marry in a few years and yet his wife will have to accept me; just like the concubines I hear of in other houses – except I'll be held higher than she, in his eyes. She'll be there to provide heirs and I'll be at his side giving him advice as he rules, he'll listen to my words, my points on military battle and politics. The queen may have his hand, but _I'll_ have his heart.'

'You have the heart of your people here, Nyra,' he tried.

'Not good enough,' I shrugged and turned back to face him. 'Gorim, what–' Tears glistened in his eyes and fell upon his cheeks, freezing the words in my throat even as my mouth hung open.

'Nyra, you have _my_ heart, you always have,' his husky voice spoke as he wiped the drops from his face. 'You _are_ everything I live for, what I fight for. I do my duty _because_ of you, not because it's my job.' The words I threw at him just the day before rang loud in my ears: _I want to be something to someone, something more to them than their duty; I want to be their… everything! I want to be the thing they live for because they feel it here! Not because someone tells them that's their job, their role in Orzammar…_

'I took the position originally under my father's direction – he served yours, now I'd serve you – but once here, once I saw you, got to know you… it happened so slowly, I don't know when it was that I fell completely in love with you, but I remember watching you in training, thinking how amazing you were and I suddenly realised that I'd die for you, not because it was commanded of me if need be, but because I'd rather die than let anything hurt you, and I knew, I knew then that I had fallen in love with you, without realising, without meaning to, I had given my heart to you.

'Nyra,' I closed my eyes, savouring the way he said my name, and the words he spoke. 'You are my heart; I love you, Nyra. Not the Lady Aeducan, not the Princess of Orzammar, but Nyra, that's who I love.'

'Why now?' I whispered, 'Why tell me now and not before?'

'I'm your Second, Nyra,' he said simply. 'It is my duty to protect you, not love you. If they found out, if they knew how I felt– '

'They'd make you leave me.' I sunk down into the chair and looked up at him. 'Yesterday, you… you kissed me, you touched me… I thought you were doing it to stop me running, are you… is _this_ all to stop me from leaving too?'

He shook his head as he knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his; 'I hadn't meant to kiss you yesterday, it wasn't some calculated plan. After I kissed you I realised that I couldn't be your Second anymore. I couldn't know what it was to hold you in my arms and then stand by your side and never be allowed to hold you again, to kiss you, to have your arms around me.

'I thought of how, some day, you would find a potential suitor and I died a little inside at the idea of watching you fall in love with him, perhaps you'd have your heart broken and I knew that I wouldn't be able to console you, put your heart back together again only for some other man to come and capture it. For once, I thought about myself and it shamed me. I did my father dishonour when I handed in my resignation, I dishonoured my family and my ancestors, but all I could think of was my _own_ pain.

'Of course, your father refused it. Told me that I had no choice – best man for the job and I would not let him down.' He shook his head. 'But I have, or at least I will.' He had never looked at me so openly, so honestly, and I knew he meant every word he spoke; I saw his soul and I felt my own heart break at the pain he suffered.

'Enjoy your freedom, Nyra; enjoy what he can give you. And should he ever break your heart, or if you ever have any cause to leave him, write me and I will leave Orzammar and I will be at your side once again.'

I took in a breath at his words. 'Gorim, I–'

A knock at the door interrupted us.

'Nyra,' came Cailan's voice as he opened it. Gorim stood quickly, and I wiped at the tears I hadn't realised I had cried. He glanced at my friend with cool eyes, before he turned to me with opened arms. I embraced him quickly before stepping back out of his arms, aware of Gorim's eyes upon me.

'You are ready?' I nodded, dipping my head, unable to look at any of them in case I changed my mind.

'If you hurt her, if you don't treat her as the most precious jewel in your kingdom, I will come looking for you,' Gorim warned. 'I don't care if you're king, I don't care if you have ten thousand men surrounding you. I will find you and I will make you pay.'

I swallowed and looked up at them – perhaps it was the biggest mistake in my life, perhaps it saved me from making that mistake, but suddenly I wasn't so sure, I didn't know what to do.

Gorim's words, words I had longed to hear for so long, wrapped around my heart. I could never have him as my husband; I could take him as a secret lover, perhaps, but we would never have the family we would desire. Our life would be shrouded in secrecy, our love hidden from all.

Cailan offered me everything, a chance to be open about my feelings, a chance to live freely as his heart's desire. He gave me the opportunity to have children with him and be at his side for all the world to see. But he would never marry me; his children with me, being half dwarven, wouldn't be acknowledged as his. They would receive no titles and when he died, we would be turned aside as if we were no one.

'Get out,' I said quietly.

'My Lady?' Gorim questioned.

'Get out!' I screamed at them. 'It's _not_ fair! None of this is fair!'

Gorim pushed Cailan towards the door, despite his protests and left me alone.

* * *

I yanked my boots up my legs and stood, allowing Hespith to snap closed the clips on my leather armour. I didn't care if I had another year left to wait under my father's rules. Today was _my_ day. Today _I_ decided my future, today _I _stood for myself and decided my role.

'You are sure about this, Nyra?' Hespith asked me one last time as she gathered up my long hair into a haphazard bun and pushed the leather helm over my head.

'Do not worry, my friend,' I reassured her. 'I will tell them that I drugged you should there be a commotion.'

She laughed heartily at the image. 'It has been an honour to be your mentor, Nyra. I hope that this gives you what you seek.'

* * *

'This is a glory Proving, fought under the watchful eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar for the honour of our City's distinguished guests, King Maric of Ferelden and his son Prince Cailan Theirin. Ser Hespith, Captain of House Kondrat will face Teskran Ballor, second child of Lord Ballor.' The Proving Master called to the arena.

I pushed down on the helm Hespith had loaned me and prayed that it didn't fall off before the match was over.

Teskran bowed before me, 'Honour and glory to your house, ser.'

I nodded back, unable to speak. I had fought well so far, beating my six previous opponents, but I knew that Teskran would be difficult to beat. He led the army of his house well and fought with great skill. I tightened my hands on my blades and prepared for the match.

'First warrior to fall is vanquished,' the Proving Master called. 'Fight!'

Teskran charged at me with a mighty battle cry, his greatsword raised above him. His sword crashed down against the floor as I danced out of its way and dodged around him before another blow could be made. He saw where I was going and played dirty, sticking out his foot. I missed the move and tripped. His blade swung around and I rolled out of the way before it hit the floor where a second before my head had been.

_Oh, I see_, I thought as I jumped up and wrapped myself in the shadows, disappearing from his view. _Going in for the kill, naughty boy._ I crept up behind him and he turned in my direction, swinging his sword out again. I jumped back, losing my control of the shadows and exposing myself. The blade nicked my armour, but there was no harm done. I parried another attack as I tried to make my way behind him again. I had seen his weakness and knew if I could just get to it…

His blade swept low to take my feet, and I dove through the air, twisting as he brought his sword back around to have another go at me. I landed on my feet, and saw my chance as he lifted his sword high; I rolled between his legs jumping up behind him as he swung the sword down. I leapt on his back and slammed my blade into the gap in his armour, deep into his shoulder, he screamed out in agony and dropped his sword, before falling to the ground.

I pulled my dagger out and held it aloft, his blood dripping from it. The crowd roared with applause and cheers of approval.

'Step forward, ser Hespith, and claim the prizes graciously given by King Endrin Aeducan and King Maric Theirin in honour of your glory.'

I took a deep breath and approached the royal box. I saw my father looking down, his eyes scrutinising me, weighing me up. He tapped the Proving Master and whispered something to him. I paused as they turned back to me.

'Ser Hespith, would you kindly remove your helm as you approach the Kings.'

I hesitated for a moment, I knew that this moment might come, and I had been prepared for it. I nodded solemnly, bowed before my father and then slowly pulled my helm from my head, shaking my long white hair free. A gasp went throughout the crowd, followed by whispers. My hair marked me out against all my age, even against those women who fought.

'Nyra!' my father bellowed, jumping up. I cringed as both Maric and Cailan stood to get a better view. I saw Cailan's confused brow turn into a beaming smile as my eyes landed upon him.

'Father,' I stood and turned my face up to him, 'I have fought all my opponents this day under the name of Hespith as I knew that you wished for me to wait. But I fought today for the honour of House Aeducan, House Kondrat and for the Ancestors – who have smiled upon me today and willed me their champion.' The crowd remained quiet, waiting for my father's words. 'I pray to those same Ancestors that they allow you to accept me as your champion, with the honour and glory of Orzammar, but if it is not their will, if I cannot be your champion, then I will accept whatever penalty this act demands.'

A pair of lone hands started clapping; I looked up to see King Maric applauding me, his eyes warm and kind. Cailan followed suit, and finally my father joined in. He let forth a mighty cheer, which encouraged the crowds to join in the applause and soon the sound was deafening.

'Nyra, you have won us over with your skill and your gall, you truly are a warrior this day!' He beamed down at me, pride in his eyes. Trian managed a smile and Bhelen stuck his tongue out at me. 'I am pleased to announce your first Commission within Orzammar's armies and I present to you the Helm of the Champion, and pray that the Ancestors bless it to protect you when in battle, _Captain_ Aeducan!' A man hurried over as my father spoke and handed me a beautiful golden helm that I realised I'd never be able to wear for it took two hands to lift it above my head as I presented to it the cheering crowd.

When the crowd settled King Maric spoke. 'Lady Nyra Aeducan, Princess of Orzammar,' I bowed to him. 'I present to you this blade,' again a man hurried to me and presented me with a box. I opened it, my eyes wide, my breath stopped as I saw the dagger inside. It was a pale ivory hue with runes inscribed into the blade, giving the whole dagger a blue glow. My fingers traced over it; I was mesmerised, I had never seen a weapon like it.

'This blade,' Maric continued, 'has been cut from my own sword.' He held it aloft to show to the crowd. There was a section missing from the blade close to its hilt, but it had been done with such craftsmanship that, had he not mentioned it, you would have been forgiven for thinking it part of the sword's design.

'It is made of dragonbone and crafted with runes that aide in fighting against the Darkspawn.' The crowed murmured in appreciation. I took the blade from the box, resting it in my hands, it felt as if it hummed in acknowledgment, accepting me as its rightful wielder. It was so light I almost didn't believe I held it at all. I grasped the hilt, stunned at how perfect it fit my hand – almost as if it was made for me.

'I present this to Orzammar's Champion as a symbol of our allegiance in fighting the Darkspawn and any future Blight.' The crowd waited for my response. I looked up at the King and weighed his words.

_Allegiance in fighting the Darkspawn. Future Blight. _ I looked around the arena, at the people who looked down at me, waiting for me, watching my reaction, accepting the humans as allies on my say so. _My people, my choice, my responsibility_.

I looked up at the royal box, looking for Cailan. He already knew my decision, knew the moment my hand touched the blade and heard the words of his father, that my mind was set.

I nodded to him, thankful for understanding my position. I wasn't the heir to the throne. But I was Orzammar's Princess; its warrior. I thrust the blade into the air.

'For Orzammar!' I roared. The crowd erupted.

* * *

'If you ever change your mind, Nyra, for I know I never will, you know where to find me.' Cailan took my hand in his as we said a private goodbye. Gorim stood a short distance away, ensuring our privacy. 'Send me word and I will send my army to come and collect you. I will lead them myself.'

I smiled softly up at him. He cupped my face in his hand, his finger brushing my cheek; he bent down and brushed it with a kiss. I took a breath as he stepped away and Gorim returned to my side.

'If you are ever in need of anything, all you need do is ask.'

'I will, Cailan, and thank you for understanding. I will never forget you.'

'Nor I you.'

* * *

'But I had,' Nyra finished. 'He had all but gone from my mind when we had a missive from the Ferelden court. King Maric was lost at sea and Cailan had taken his place as King of Ferelden with his new bride at his side, Anora Mac Tir.'

'Were you jealous?' Lowena asked, her face pointed at Nyra, but her eyes trained on Alistair, waiting for his reaction.

'Not really, three years had passed and Gorim had been at my side the whole time. I had nothing to wish for or wonder about. I was content.' Nyra sighed. 'Cailan had been a necessary step in my life. I spent more time with the army training and honing my skills. I finally understood what Gorim had said to me that day, I understood my role, my place in Orzammar, and through that I understood who I was.'

'But why did you need to tell Duncan?'

'After Cailan wed I received a number of missives from him. He was never happy, and spoke often of his frustrations as King. He would beg for me to come to the surface as his courtesan, to advise him and help him rule the way he wanted to. I always replied gently declining his offer and advising him that he didn't need me to rule the way he wanted to. I knew that if he saw me there at Ostagar, this could cause problems, especially given my newly acquired position as an Exile.'

'I can't imagine what he saw in you,' Alistair teased Nyra. She pouted and jabbed him with her elbow. 'Ouch.' He laughed rubbing his side.

Lowena pointedly ignored the exchange, looking down at her notes. 'I see. And did it?'

'A little, but not as much as I thought it might, in fact it saved our lives.' The scholar looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise. 'But that would be getting a little ahead of our story.'

'I can't believe you had a romance with King Cailan.'

'What can I say,' Nyra smiled sheepishly, her cheeks flushing. 'I have a thing for blondes– '

'And humans,' Alistair chuckled, planting a kiss on her forehead, 'which I am eternally grateful for.' Lowena shook her head and looked helplessly at him as he looked lovingly at the Grey Warden Commander. She was unable to understand his affection for the woman next to him. Romances and affairs filled this woman's early life and still he looked at her as if she belonged upon a pedestal.

Lowena rubbed her nose unintentionally smearing more ink up it, and looked at the candle. 'It is late, Commander, and the Professor wants to meet me early to go over some documents.'

'Thank you, Lowena; will we see you tomorrow evening?'

'Of course.'

As the scholar closed the door, Nyra stood to go to their bedchamber. Alistair grabbed her around the waist, turning her to face him.

'I hope that in all the years we've been together, you have never had cause to think of them and wonder.'

She smiled, shaking her head, 'It is because of you that I never have cause to think of them, or wonder.' He smiled, pulled her to him and gave her another reason to forget the past.


	4. Chapter IV: A Royal Welcoming

Chapter 4 – A Royal Welcoming

'Trust me, Nyra, you will have nothing to fear… except the Darkspawn.' I smiled as Duncan and I continued on past a looming tower. Guards hurried to and fro as if preparing it for something. 'Now, we have to get ready for the ritual-'

'Duncan! Welcome back!' Cailan called, interrupting us, as he approached our location.

_Typical_, I thought, _not even at the actual camp and I'm caught out_. I realised that Lady Luck just wasn't on my side that day.

Cailan stopped in his stride as his dark brown eyes fell on me. It had been eight years, but still my heart and stomach fluttered at the sight of him. His hair had grown since he had visited Orzammar, although it was still the colour of spun gold, and he wore the comings of a beard. He seemed to hesitate, his mouth working but no sound came. He blinked rapidly as his eyes darted from me to Duncan.

'Atrast Vala, Cailan.' I bowed to him trying to keep my voice steady. I felt like a hundred lava bugs were squirming through my chest.

'Nyra?' My name finally fell from his lips; the rich warm tones of his voice washed over me. 'It's really you? You're here, on the surface?' I nodded slowly, unsure of what I should say, _if_ I should say anything at all. 'I cannot believe that you've finally come to me.'

He stepped towards me again, but I held up my hand, his words slapping me in the face. I should have known that he would think that; that I was here for him. And it would have been so easy to say 'Yes', to hide behind him instead of becoming a Grey Warden. I worried my lip and dipped my head.

'No, Cailan, I do not come here with your offer in mind.' The smile that hovered on his lips fell, his eyes searched mine before hardening; protecting himself from being hurt. Again.

I cursed softly as he bent to his knee. 'Lady Nyra Aeducan, Princess of Orzammar, Your Highness, forgive me,' he stood back up. 'I did not realise that King Endrin would be sending an ambassador to us, after the letter I received from him. I had simply thought that Duncan brought a new recruit. The moment I am free to put ink to parchment I will send him my deepest and sincerest thanks for sending his most utmost officer to our fight.

'Forgive me for not receiving you as I should, if I had known, Your Highness, I would have sent my men to escort you on your journey.'

'None of that will be necessary.' I sighed. 'I am Lady Aeducan no longer, now I am just Nyra, the Grey Warden.'

'What?'

'I am in exile.'

'But – What? Why… your father would never… he wouldn't, I _know_ he wouldn't. He dotes on you. You are his prize.'

'Bhelen betrayed us all. He killed Trian, put the blame on me and turned the Assembly against me. I was cast out to walk the Deep Roads. Luckily, Duncan was still scouting there when they found me and offered me a place with the Grey Wardens. For all I know Bhelen has killed my father too-'

'No!' I jumped as he roared his protest; his voice filled with fury and dread. He turned his face to Duncan, his eyes wide with alarm. He stepped forward, squaring up to the Grey Warden Commander, a man he idolised, hero-worshipped.

'You will _not_ conscript her, Duncan,' Cailan growled. Duncan's fingers flexed and curved into fists. 'As soon as I am finished here, I will march my army to Orzammar and I will return _Lady Aeducan_ to her rightful place.' He returned his gaze to me, a gaze filled with determination and resolution.

'Cailan, you cannot do that.' I shook my head, moving to him, placing my hand upon his arm. 'I no longer exist in Orzammar, I have been stripped from the memories; my father now only has two sons, one of whom was killed. That's how it will be recorded.' I gently urged his hand into mine and led him away from Duncan and his guards.

I slipped my arm into his, just as I had years ago as we walked through my city. His hand covered mine as I spoke; 'I have no past now, only a future and I wish to spend it as a Grey Warden. I was born with a blade in my hand and raised to fight the Darkspawn; allow me to be of some use to you here, on your surface, as your loyal subject, Your-'

'Don't.' He closed his eyes, his voice raw, 'Do not call me that, not you.' He looked down at me, stopping our steps. 'Why, Nyra? Why not join me like we once planned? There is nothing in our way now. You're no longer tied to Orzammar, you're free.' He looked out over the valley beneath us, the sun setting lower over the horizon. I had seen such pictures before, paintings brought to my father from ambassadors, diplomats and representatives, but the colours of the paints were nothing in comparison to the real thing.

'This, Nyra, is mine.' He moved behind me, his hands on my arms, moving me forward to look across his lands. 'All of it. I control it; it is mine to do with as I wish. On the surface you are my subject, and as such I give you your freedom – your freedom to live and love how you want to; what you _always_ wanted.'

It was what I wanted, what I had always yearned for. We had spoken long into the night when he had visited Orzammar about how we were trapped, unable to choose our destiny or our hearts' desires.

'Love me, Nyra.' His breath tickled my ear as he leaned down to whisper his luring offer, his fingers gently caressing my skin. I shuddered as warmth fluttered down my spine. 'Be with me, not the Wardens.'

I closed my eyes, the temptation pulled at me, twisted my stomach into a thousand knots. When I opened them my gaze focused on the ruins on the other side of the valley, across the bridge before us. I watched people coming and going, rushing around. My eyes fell on a ruined tower, far from the main hustle and bustle of the camp. A lone figure walked to its crumbling wall, his or her shoulders slumped, their body appearing tired as they stood leaning over the wall, staring off into the valley far below them.

'You'll give me my freedom?' I asked quietly, my eyes unable to move from the solitary figure; I wanted to know why he or she looked so dejected, what troubled them? Were they fearful of the upcoming battle? Or were they alone like me? I watched the person turn as another approached. I sighed.

'Yes,' he whispered, before he boldly nipped my neck with his lips. I shivered in delight, closing my eyes as I felt my mind slipping towards his lure again.

'Then let me join the Wardens.' My voice shook. I sucked my lip between my teeth and braced myself for his harsh words; words that never came. Instead he sighed and dropped his hands from my arms. 'It's what I want, Cailan. You've given me freedom, and this is what I choose.'

'It was too much to hope, to dare…' His words trailed away as he looked out over his land. 'For a second I hoped that life was being generous.' The pain in his words pulled at my heart; guilt washed over me and cut my resolve._ Never free_, my mind hissed at me.

'Perhaps, though, after this is over I could come to Denerim for a while?' His head snapped around, his eyes daring to hope. I smiled shyly at him, he grinned back.

'Join me for supper; allow me to welcome you as a citizen of my land.'

'After my joining, yes, I would love to – that is if it is okay with Duncan.' I looked over towards my new Commander, he appeared not to be listening, but I knew that he was. A rogue always had their eyes and ears open. His head dipped ever so slightly; an indication that I could indulge the king a little.

'After I join with the Wardens, yes, that would be lovely.' I turned back to Cailan, whose smile widened.

He looked me over for a second, his gaze clouding. 'I will see to it that my quartermaster fits you out with something a bit more suited to your new position.' His voice became firm, confident, the voice of a king again. 'And that dagger,' he nodded at my hip, 'has seen better days – where is the one my father gave you?'

'I was stripped of it, as I was everything else.'

His jaw set, anger flashed across his face. 'That dagger was a gift from my father to show allegiance with the dwarves. If they will not join me when I call them then they shall not keep it in Orzammar! It was meant to join the sword again before we slay the Archdemon.'

The dagger had been the envy of every solider under my command, as it cut its way through Darkspawn flesh with ease, making them squeal and run. The moment I had held it, it had felt part of me, as if it had been made for my hand alone. It had saved my life on a good number of occasions.

'Cailan,' my voice was soft and soothing. 'There are more pressing things to focus on right now.'

He turned back to the stunning view before us, thinking about what I had just said. The sun high in the sky crowned his blond hair with a halo of light. His skin was unmarred by scars or signs of battle, his nose straight and long. I traced the new scar under my eye, my fingers falling to my nose as I thought of how many times it had been broken. It turned up slightly at the end and had a kink on the right, but the rest had healed well.

'One day, I _will_ return to Orzammar and I will make Bhelen pay for what he's done, and I assure you that I will regain the dagger and return it to you, in thanks for your kindness to me.'

He turned back to me, his eyes as soft as my voice. 'Nyra, how could they be so blind, believing your brother…'

As we spoke a messenger ran across the bridge towards us. The guards moved forward to intercept him and collect the message. The one who took the parchment looked up to the king, his face uncertain if he should approach. Cailan sighed, his shoulders slumping, his head leaning back.

'I'm guessing you're getting a lot of messages?' I enquired, a small smile playing on my lips. I knew that resigned sigh anywhere – I had made it too many times to count. He motioned the guard to him.

'Yes, and all from the same person.' He winked at me.

'Teyrn Loghain wishes to speak to you, sire.' Cailan spoke the words in unison with the guard, who looked surprised. I stifled a giggle.

'Excuse me, Nyra, but duty calls.' He stepped away towards his guards before turning back. 'I will see you at supper?' I nodded and bowed slightly to him. He returned the gesture before turning and marching across the bridge, back towards where the messenger had come from.

* * *

'I have to say, Nyra,' Duncan mused as we walked across the bridge towards the camp, 'After what you told me of your past, I expected the king to throw you over his shoulder and steal you away – to forget the Blight as long as he had you locked in his palace.'

I grinned slightly. 'I had half expected that myself,' I admitted.

'You realise, what you said back there, about facing your brother and regaining your dagger…'

'I admit Cailan will come in handy when I face my brother again.'

'You know that Grey Wardens are politically neutral.'

'Yes, but luckily, I won't be facing him for his politics.'

'Yes, I thought as much,' he chuckled. 'Now, I need you to go and find Alistair for me, he will be guiding you and a couple of other recruits through the joining process.'

'Can I eat first?'

'After you find Alistair,' he smiled as he walked away.

* * *

I made my way through the twisting ruins following the vague directions of one of the soldiers guarding the camp, looking for this mysterious Alistair who was to train me in the ways of the Wardens. Why he wasn't waiting back at Duncan's tent for our arrival I had no idea – nor did I know why _I_ had to go looking for _him_.

_Get used to it, Nyra_, my mind advised me. _You're no one here – little more than a servant._ I shuddered to think what my father would make of me running around on errands.

If I had chosen to hide behind Cailan, I would probably be relaxing right now with my feet up and food being presented to me, whilst Cailan fawned over me. I felt guilty about the half promises I had made to him, but I knew in my heart that we could never be. Life wasn't so kind to people like us. The lower castes thought the nobles had it all; their power and status, money and influence, making their lives easier; but all that power, all that money, it all came at a cost – a cost Cailan and I knew too well.

'And here I thought we were getting along so well.'

A smooth yet sarcastic voice interrupted my thoughts; I approached the opening it came from and peered around a large column. Two men were stood arguing; one was scowling and wearing a dress, the other was clad in splintmail armour, a smirk upon his face. My breath caught in my throat as I took him in; I had never seen a more magnificent example of a man. If I thought Cailan handsome, the word did this man no justice.

His hair was the colour of brass, his eyes the same shade of amber as the finest, richest whiskey the Dwarva produced. His broad shoulders and the way he held his tall frame made him look powerful in such low-cost armour. _Much more powerful than Cailan in his golden 'masterpiece'_,I thought.

He screamed masculinity, and I couldn't help but wonder what he would look like _out_ of the armour. My cheeks burned at the thought and I felt heat pooling in my stomach as my mind wandered over such delicious thoughts.

'I was even going to name one of my children after you… the grumpy one.' The delectable man crossed his arms over his chest as the other threw his hands up in frustration.

'Enough!' the Grumpy One barked. 'I will speak to the woman if I must!'

I licked my suddenly dry lips, and stepped around the column towards them, ready to ask them if either of them had seen the mysterious Alistair. 'Get out of my way!' the retreating man snapped as he barged passed me, knocking me a step back.

'_Atrasta tunrok shrowkan ton yo!_' I bellowed at his retreating back, and then cursed to myself.

'You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.' The Striking One came up behind me, leaning against the column that had just hidden me. I turned back to him, and found myself at a loss for words as he looked down at me, the smirk gone from his face.

His eyes were sad and tired as he looked at me. I thought I heard him mutter something about a lamb and slaughter before he forced himself to brighten up.

'What did you say to him?'

I blushed guiltily and turned from his penetrating stare. 'May you find death at the hands of the deep-fiends. Not something I should probably say with all this...' I shivered in pleasure as his warm laugh washed over me.

'Welcome to Ostagar, you must be Duncan's new recruit – please don't be a mage.'

'Alistair?' I questioned. He nodded. 'You are a very strange human – how can someone of the Dwarva be a mage?'

'You never know. These mages sneak up on you. Sneakier than rogues with sneaky shoes on, doing sneaky things, they are.' His eyes widened in mock horror at the image he painted and I found myself giggling.

He smiled at me, his eyes actually lighting up with warmth and kindness, and I smiled back at him, somehow feeling completely at ease – as if I had known him all my life.

'As a junior member of the order, I'll be working with you as you prepare for the Joining.' He looked me over, his eyes scrutinising me.

I instinctively stood to attention, pulling myself up to my full height, my shoulders back, chest out. His eyes widened as I thrust my chest forward and a blush crept across his cheeks. My breath hitched as his gaze met mine again. I looked away, feeling my own cheeks flush.

It was a few moments before either one of us spoke again.

'You know,' he mused, his voice low. 'There haven't been any dwarven Grey Wardens for some time. Do you know a lot about the Darkspawn?'

'We've been fighting them for centuries, but there's not much to know – you just kill them.'

'Most folks here think the Darkspawn disappeared after the last Blight, they don't consider that your people still suffer every day.'

'Thank you,' I whispered. I tried to swallow, my mouth dry.

'For what?' He looked confused.

'For giving me some hope that Surfacers aren't all that bad.'


	5. Chapter V: The Wilder Side

_Okay as its Nyra AND Alistair's tale, and they've finally gotten to Alistair being in the tale, both of them are obviously going to have some sort of storytelling role. I've tried to distinguish between their voices, by doing Nyra in the first person and Alistair in the third. If it is too jarring, please let me know, as I have another chapter in his POV coming up shortly that is quite important!_

Chapter 5 – The Wilder Side

'So that was your first meeting!' Lowena finally lit up as their story progressed. Nyra narrowed her eyes at the scholar, knowing what delighted her so. She curled her feet under her and sighed warmly as she cuddled into Alistair.

'Yes,' Alistair said as he wrapped his arm around Nyra, smiling a little goofily as she wiggled against him to get comfortable… and closer. 'I was a complete idiot; I actually asked her if she, someone from Orzammar, knew a lot about Darkspawn.' He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. Nyra mentally stuck her tongue out at the woman opposite them.

'And,' Lowena looked at Nyra, suspiciously. 'You didn't make _any_ connection between him and King Cailan when you met?'

'No,' the Commander said slowly. 'It wasn't the first thing on my mind. They share the same colouring, the same build – but then so did a number of other men I had seen that day. Blond hair and brown eyes are not uncommon in Ferelden.' Alistair made a sound of protest. 'But you outshine them all, beloved.' She grinned up at him.

'Damn right.' He puffed out his chest. 'And let me tell you, if it wasn't for Nyra being there I wouldn't be here today.'

Lowena made a little 'oh' sound as she started scribbling as Alistair told of their time in the Wilds...

* * *

He was pinned down by two of the atrocities they were fighting. Daveth and Ser Jory were fighting in vain, six or seven of the things surrounding them – there was little hope. He couldn't believe that this was how it was going to end for him and the recruits he had been entrusted with. At least he was dying a Grey Warden, but the others… he hadn't even seen Nyra, the fiery dwarf, go down, but he imagined she had already fallen. He closed his eyes at the thought, shaking it from his mind as he tried to reach for his sword, inches from his grasp.

A blow to the stomach knocked the wind from him, recoiling his hand back towards his body involuntarily; another blow struck his head, making it spin and his eyes see double. _Why bother_, he thought at the hopelessness of their situation, _just let it end_.

'Die!' he heard the charge of Nyra as one of his attackers landed heavily upon him, dead. She kicked Alistair's sword into his hand as she smacked the other Genlock in the nose with the hilt of her blade, sending it sprawling backwards, giving Alistair a chance to get to his feet and return to the fray.

'Help _them_,' she motioned back towards the other recruits. 'I'm gonna get the big bastard.' She charged off, letting forth another mighty cry.

He looked across and saw a giant Hurlock Emissary running towards them. It stopped as it spied Nyra charging towards it and began to cast a spell. Alistair watched, astonished as the Emissary began flinging his hexes at her and she carried on running, unfazed by the magic. A howl behind him reminded him about the last Genlock that had been attacking him. He turned in time to see it charging; he thrust his sword forward and ran it through.

He kicked it off his sword, picked up his shield and ran towards Daveth and Jory. Stabbing a rogue in the back brought the numbers down to two-to-one. He slammed his shield against two of the beasts knocking them back.

'Daveth,' he called and pointed his sword to the rock behind them. Daveth nodded and jumped on Alistair's back, and on to the boulder. The archer threw down his sword and unshouldered his bow, firing down at the Darkspawn; the beasts quickly dispatched.

As the last one fell, Daveth dropped down from his position and helped Jory whose leg had been sliced through and needed attention. Alistair turned to aid Nyra, but she was already walking back towards them, her blades gripped tightly in one hand and the head of the Emissary in the other. Her eyes glared at them, fury radiating from her.

Daveth chuckled and ducked behind Alistair, 'Go for it, oh fearless leader.'

Duncan normally looked at him with mild irritation when he messed up; the Reverend Mother had scowled and grabbed his ear, giving it a twist. The only person who had ever looked at him the way she was looking now was Isodel. He swallowed hard.

'You sodding idiot!' she screamed, throwing down her blades and the head she was carrying, which bounced slightly with a soft squelch as it hit the ground. Alistair winced. 'Just what do you think you were playing at?' she demanded hotly as she tried to square up to him with her full four foot nine frame. If the glare in her eye hadn't been so deadly he might have laughed at her actions.

'I thought… You… Where did you come from?' he asked, confused by how she had suddenly reappeared during the skirmish.

'_I_ was doing what I _told_ you I would be doing – collecting some herbs the Kennel Master requested.' Her hands tightened into fists. 'I told you to watch my back for a moment and unless these things appeared from thin air and dragged you all the way down the path to their camp I have a sneaking suspicion that you completely ignored me and just wandered off!'

He looked at the others who had moved behind her, out of the path of her anger. Daveth made a small 'oh' shape with his mouth – obviously he remembered her saying something.

'I'm sorry-' Alistair started.

'Sorry? _Sorry_?' She struggled to find the words to express her outrage. 'You could have gotten everyone killed!' she finally managed. 'You're supposed to be the leader – the one who _senses_ the bastards. What if you hadn't come across this camp? What if instead there were a few lurking in the shadows back there? You left me – one of _your_ chargers – to fend for myself!'

'I'm really, _really_ sorry.' He looked down at her mournfully, kicking himself at his foolishness.

She glared at him again, gritting her teeth and, he suspected, trying to restrain herself from hitting him. 'How could you go running into a camp full of them without realising that I wasn't there? Did you not stop and discuss strategy? Or did you just assume that everyone knew what they were doing and ran into it, shouting out and whacking things with your big sword?'

Alistair blushed. It hadn't been quite that way; they had stopped yes, but his eyes had been focused on the Darkspawn as he issued orders – he hadn't actually asked them all if they understood, or even looked around for confirmation. 'I've never lead before,' was all he could come up with.

'Oh for the love of the Ancestors!' She threw her hands up in exasperation, making him jump, before she turned and walked back to where she had thrown her blades. She bent over to pick them up and Alistair caught himself staring at her rear as she did so. When she turned back to him, sheathing her new long daggers across her back, his face was bright red, his ears burning. 'Wet behind the frigging ears.'

Alistair hung his head listening to her mutter on about leadership, command and tactics. Blood rang in his ears as his embarrassment grew as it dawned on him that she was a seasoned soldier; not only that, but someone who had issued orders, not just followed them. Why hadn't Duncan warned him?

'Right,' her voice was strong and authoritative. Alistair noted the difference in the way they issued orders immediately. 'We need to get somewhere we can set camp – it's too late to turn back and Ser Jory needs that leg seeing too. Daveth, you help him to walk.' The rogue nodded at her. 'Alistair, find a fresh water supply when we set camp and collect some of it please, I need to clean that leg out.' She snatched up the head that she had left at her feet. 'Let's move out.'

'Nyra,' Alistair tried tentatively, looking uneasily at the vacant eyes of the Emissary.

'What?' she snapped.

'Umm, what are you doing with that?'

'I'm going to stick his head on a pike and put it on the front line,' she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

'I, err, I'm not sure we're allowed to do that.'

'Fine,' she grumbled before dropping the head and meeting it with a kick. It propelled high into the air and landed with a splash in the small pond behind the other two recruits. Who _was_ this woman?

* * *

The moon was full that night and bathed the ground around them. Alistair sat with his back to the fire as he stared out over the landscape. Daveth and Jory lay sleeping against the back wall of the ruin they had set up their small impromptu camp in, whilst Nyra sat staring into the flames, playing with her hair. He had said very little to anyone since he had realised his incompetence had nearly killed them all.

To say he was annoyed with himself would be an understatement. The first time Duncan had allowed him to take charge of a group and he had nearly gotten them all killed. The fact that only one injury had occurred was only thanks to Nyra. She had really screamed at him when they had finished the battle, but since they had set up camp the dwarf had said little, except to Jory when they discussed his leg.

'I'm not happy with his leg,' Nyra reflected as she pulled bits of gore from her unusual white locks, locks that were now streaked with red. It was as if she had read his mind. She had tried her best at bandaging Jory's leg, using what little ointments and poultices they had, but she still had nagging doubts. 'I hope that none of their blood got to it.'

He said nothing, but continued to stare out into the night. He had heard stories of the Wilds and the things that lived in it – things that frightened him at the best of times without the potential Darkspawn horde about somewhere.

'I'm sorry.' At that he turned to face her, surprised by her apology, after all he should be the one doing the apologising. Her big blue-grey eyes looked up at him through her messy, blood-splattered fringe, her face as soft and open as it had been when they had first met at Ostagar. 'I shouldn't have gone ballistic at you like that.'

'No, you should have.'

'No, I really shouldn't have. It's been a while since I was first commissioned – I had forgotten what it's like the first time you lead for real. You can train for it as much as you want, but when it comes down to the real thing, you suddenly realise there are no second chances, and then suddenly there's so much pressure and responsibility riding on your shoulders,' she tried to explain. 'And it does happen, I know that.'

She sighed as she continued to work a particularly difficult piece of gore from her tresses. 'I am not one to really lecture someone; I lost a whole battalion once, down the Roads. They were good men, brilliant fighters, but we hadn't counted on the numbers we met. There was a nest of the things in a thaig we hadn't realised was there. But men getting injured or dying under your watch. It's part of the burden of responsibility.'

He turned back to the darkness, weighing her words. She had said very little of herself during their time together unlike the others, and he liked that she was a bit of a mystery, getting to know her piece by piece, like a very large jigsaw. Daveth talked about anything and everything, and Jory wouldn't stop about his wife and expected child. Personally, Alistair thought it unkind of Duncan to take him knowing what may lie ahead of the recruit, but at the same time he understood the need for men like him.

'They know the risks when they sign up,' she paused and gazed at the fire again, her brow furrowing into a frown. 'Or at least most do.' He smirked at a little at her reference to the secrecy surrounding the ritual they had yet to undergo. 'They know that they will more than likely find their death on the battlefield – for the Dwarva that is the most honourable way to go. Glory in death, fighting for the honour of Orzammar, the Ancestors embracing you.'

He turned back to her, 'Is that what you sought?' She finally managed to pull the lump of goo free from her hair and threw it into the fire. It hissed angrily at her as she peered into the flames, perhaps searching for her answer.

'Sometimes I did. At first. But since…' He thought he saw a flash of anger in her eyes, but it could have just been the light of the fire. 'I have something to do first,' she shrugged, 'whether I get the chance to or not will determine if I gain such glory.'

Silence fell between them as Alistair thought of what she had said. She had commanded battalions' not small numbers; she had led men through battle, not skirmishes. He thought of commanding such a number of men, how they would do as he directed, charging towards their potential deaths. How did someone shoulder such a responsibility?

'A whole battalion, you said?'

'They died with honour and were returned to the stone.'

'And that's good enough for you? Really?'

She looked at him again; her eyes as hard as their colour. 'If you are to lead, Alistair, then you must learn this; when you're out in the field it has to be. You don't have time to mourn – you do your grieving later, _if_ you return. That's the clincher; they're dead, you're not, and you want to remain that way. If you mourn them there and then, you're mourning your own death.' Her words were fuelled with conviction.

They looked at each other for a long moment, silence hanging between them as the thought of the pending battle loomed in their minds. The thought of him commanding the way King Cailan did, forging battle plans, taking on the responsibility for everyone made him sick to his stomach; just having the three of them under his wing out here was enough.

'You weren't just a soldier in Orzammar were you? Did you-'

'Captain,' she said shortly, putting end to his planned line of conversation.

'That emissary-'

'Sorry about that, not used to human customs. We normally take the heads and stick them on a pike then set them down the furthest points we command to warn the Darkspawn that those tunnels are ours again.'

'Ah, I see.' He turned back to staring into the marshland. 'But I actually meant about you charging it singlehandedly. I've seen three or four Grey Wardens charging one of those before they'd go down. The way it flung those spells at you, over and over, and you didn't even flinch…' He turned back to her, appreciation in his eyes. 'Wow, just… wow.'

'They sting a little bit. It's kind of like when you're cold and you get spanked.'

'Spanked… When you're cold?' He cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

'No! I didn't mean – hit, I _meant_ hit…' He laughed at her and turned back to the Wilds. 'Oh, you're terrible.' She pouted.

* * *

Lowena looked at Nyra incredulously. 'You _lied_ to him? You were the High Commander, not a _Captain_!'

'Technically, no. I _had_ been a captain at one time… I just didn't tell him the full truth.'

'You have to remember, Lowena, Nyra had been through a lot, betrayed by the people she held dear, she wasn't about to lay her heart out to strangers.' Alistair defended his wife, staring at the scholar. The young woman looked down at her notes, her cheeks flushing crimson.

* * *

Daveth dropped Jory upon the grass outside the abandoned outpost and saw to his leg again as Nyra and Alistair approached the crumbling ruin. Eras of abandonment and subsequent neglect had caused rooms to collapse and roofs to disappear with the wind or into the rooms below. The whole place was a mess; room after room of rubble and ruin, fallen rocks and crumbling walls greeted them.

'So, I know it's all a big secret, right,' Nyra started, as the pair entered another empty room save for the remains of the ceiling littering the floor. 'But this ritual, I'm guessing it's not something that everyone survives. ' She peered under a big slab of rock and sighed before trying to work her way under it to see if the archive was there, crushed as it may be. Alistair, finding himself mesmerised by the sway of her rear end as she wiggled under the rubble, remained silent.

'No I can't see anything,' she called back as she wriggled out of the wreckage. Still receiving no answer, she turned her head towards her companion to see what was keeping him so quiet. She raised her eyebrow as she followed his line of sight.

'Enjoying the view?' She smirked at him as his cheeks flushed with colour and he instantly started muttering apologies, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. 'I'll show you mine, if you show me yours.' She swayed her round bottom at him and giggled. He felt himself turning, what he was sure was, a fetching shade of purple. Turning on his heel he made to leave as she turned back to the ruins.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw a raven-haired woman standing in the doorway, her golden eyes watching him, calculating his every move.

'Nyra,' he hissed through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm; he didn't wish to spook the mysterious woman.

'Changed your mind?' he heard her muffled voice teasing as she continued to scramble about under the debris.

'Intruders I see,' the woman in the doorway spoke, her bird-like eyes never leaving his. He heard a thud and Nyra curse as she jumped at the unexpected voice.

'Who are you?' he questioned the mage in front of him. Even from this distance he could sense the strong presence of the magic she held. _Apostate,_ his mind screamed at him as his Templar training came rushing to the front of his thoughts. He hoped she was unable feel his ability to combat her talents as he began to shield himself from anything she might decide to throw at them.

'I should ask you the same question.' She stepped towards him before stopping suddenly, her head cocked to one side as if she heard something. She appraised him again, her eyebrow raised in surprise. Nyra scuffled behind him, causing the woman's eyes to shift.

'And there's the Dwarf. Perhaps you'll tell me your name?'

'Don't answer her,' Alistair commanded. 'She looks Chasnid, there may be others nearby.'

'You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?' the woman scoffed.

'Yes, swooping is bad,' Alistair drawled.

'A witch of the wilds!' Daveth's voice exclaimed from behind the woman, who rolled her eyes towards the heavens. She did not look towards the interruption, her eyes refused to be distracted from the pair in front of her.

'And another buffoon. Any more to add to the pot?' Nyra stepped out from behind Alistair and the woman honed in on her again. 'You there Dwarf, if I am indeed a witch, _you_ would have nothing to fear from me, from what I have seen.'

'You've been watching us?' Nyra asked tentatively as she moved forward. Alistair held out his arm and stepped in front of her again. He didn't care if she could resist an Emissary's magic, she'd had practice with them; an _apostate_ was more likely to dabble in blood magic. A _blood_ mage was usually pursued by a contingent of Templars, never a lone one, and certainly not one who was still technically a trainee.

'For some time; "Where do they go?" I wondered, "What do they seek?" and then I find you here, where none has transpired for some time.' The woman finally moved towards them as she spoke, her hands moving in time with her hips. Alistair found the movement hypnotic as his eyes moved from her dancing hands to her swaying waist. Nyra nudged him, breaking his captivated stare; he looked down at her quickly giving her a sheepish look as the dwarf frowned back at him.

'Allow us to be civilised,' the raven-haired woman continued. 'Tell me your name and I will tell you mine.'

'Nyra-' Alistair noticed she hesitated slightly, 'of the Grey Wardens.'

'You may call me Morrigan.' She stepped around the pair, a finger pressed to her lips as she appraised them. Alistair watched the apostate with narrowed eyes, his mouth in a firm line, a pulse throbbing in his temple as he concentrated on keeping the witch from touching them. He moved as the witch did, keeping himself between her and Nyra.

'I see that you seek something… something that is no longer here.'

'Give them back, witch,' he snapped at the woman named Morrigan.

'Stand down, _Templar,_' Morrigan bit at Alistair, anger clouding the witch's eyes. Nyra looked between the two confused. Morrigan slid her a glance. 'Ah, you resist even a templar's small magical means.'

'I don't understand.' Nyra looked towards Alistair for clarification, but she received none.

'Intriguing. You don't feel it at all?' Morrigan put her hand up and pushed against the air between her and Alistair, testing it. Finally she sighed, dropping her hand to her side she backed away from him. Alistair finally released his breath, but not his stance, nor the barrier.

'You have no need to fear me, Templar, nor do I have what you seek.'

'But you know who does?' Nyra asked.

'Tis my mother who holds the things you desire. Come, I will take you to her.'

Alistair scoffed at the suggestion, whilst Daveth objected with colourful language. Nyra placed her hand on Alistair's arm, he looked down at her and she nodded to him.

'You're crazy – you want to go with her?'

'You want the Treaties? We've not found them here.'

It wasn't a choice that he would have made, but he knew that Nyra was right. He sighed and turned back to Morrigan. 'Lead the way, _My Lady_.'

* * *

'Did she have them then?' Lowena asked the Wardens before her.

'She did,' Nyra said, stretching her arms above her head. 'She gave them to us quite freely, telling us she had been protecting them – their seals long ago wearing out.'

'When we returned to camp,' Alistair continued, 'Duncan made haste with the Joining Ceremony.'


	6. Chapter VI: Ferelden Alone

Chapter Six – Ferelden Alone

'I still remember saying those words; "Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn, and should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."' Alistair's voice took on a low and sombre tone as he recited the words he had spoken over a quarter of a century ago.

'I remember thinking that you spoke them with such sadness and sincerity.' Nyra looked up at him, a small smile across her lips.

'You turned to me, before you drank, and looked at me over that chalice and simply said "Remember, I know the risks," – I almost wanted to snatch it away from you and tell you that you didn't have to take _this_ burden upon you.'

'But I did… Jory, remember?'

'So what happened after you joined?' Lowena asked making another quick note before staring back at the pair.

'I didn't get much of a chance to recover, Cailan had a guard come and collect me for my overdue supper date…'

* * *

'Nyra,' Cailan beamed at me as I entered his tent. A lavish table, for a man at war, was laid out. 'I was so happy to hear you had returned from the Wilds. Had I men to spare I would have sent them with you.'

'Whilst I appreciate your generosity, it is something that needs to be done by the recruits and their trainer.' I bowed to him, 'Your Majesty.'

'Stop that.' He frowned before he took my arm and led me to my seat. 'I'm afraid it's not nug,' he said as he placed some huge slices of pink meat upon my plate. 'But it is just as delicious.' I smiled at him and he took his seat. A long silence stretched out between us as we nibbled at our dishes.

'So,' I started, trying to break the tension. 'You're married and the king now. Big changes since we last saw one another.'

'Indeed,' he murmured, taking a slice of bread and dipping it into a sauce of some kind. 'I think that my last letter to you spoke of how well things were in both areas.' He took a sip of wine. 'I also see you've still to take a husband, but fighting as always.'

'I realised a long time ago that I was born to fight, Cailan. There's something in me, an instinct, that's given me an understanding of the art.'

He snorted. 'Fighting an art?'

'Yes.'

'You grab a sword and stick the pointy end into the bad guy.'

I laughed heartily, 'And they allow you to command?' I shook my head, chuckling. 'Cailan, fighting, duelling, battling, whatever you call it, whatever situation you're in, you need to be aware of your surroundings, balanced in mind and body, poised to move quickly, graceful in your footstep to ensure your movements don't cause your downfall, and you need to create the illusion that you're invincible, that there are no chinks in your armour. Combining them, using them all at once, blending them, it's an exquisite dance, that's the art.' I looked at his sword and shield. 'If you go running into a fray and just smack things around with your sword and bash them with your shield they will be able to see your weaknesses and your time will end.'

He looked at me for a long moment, appraising me, before he leaned forward and spoke.

'You know, I never took a real interest in the _art_ before I saw you in action during my time at Orzammar. Perhaps if I'd had a trainer like you, I'd have appreciated it more, have embraced it, been more proficient with my blade.' He sighed. 'Loghain was always telling father that it was a disgrace that I didn't know how to wield a blade as a young man – not to the proficiency the Teyrn was happy with, at least.'

'I've been trained since I was a babe, Cailan, but no one taught me the 'art' of it. It's a talent you're gifted with from the Ancestors – or your Maker. Someone can be taught to craft a fine blade, but they will never be a master smith unless they listen to the metal, feel the way it wants to be shaped. It's the same with fighting. You can be taught how to parry, block, dodge, slash and thrust, but unless you embrace it completely, unless you make that blade part of you, you will never defeat your opponent.'

'Well, I'm certainly embracing it now.'

Our discussion turned to idle chatter, mundane musings as we finished our meal. As I rolled my goblet in my hand my mind fluttered with thoughts of the Darkspawn, I could already feel them fluttering on the edges of my mind. Close by and yet far away. I closed my eyes and let them come to me.

They were a bank of shadows marching against a dark landscape, thousands of feet pounding the ground, stomping their way through forests and marshes destroying life with every footstep they took; their taint spread through the flora and fauna and turned nature's canvas into a permanent black stain.

My eyes flew open. 'Cailan this is a mistake.'

'It was just supper.'

'No, I mean the battle, here, now. There's too many of them. You need to pull your men back, retreat momentarily, gather forces from elsewhere to add to your numbers – the Dwarva, Orlais, or elsewhere!'

Cailan shook his head at me. 'You can't help it can you –still the little general.' He smiled.

'High Commander, thank you.' I sniffed. 'Seriously, Cailan, I'm telling you – I can _feel_ them. They outnumber you at least four to one.' I stood up and began pacing the floor – an old habit – my hand rubbing my forehead as I thought of other possible tactics and scenerios. 'Further up that highway of yours, a few weeks travel. The Dwarva could be with you before the Darkspawn finally arrived. They'd not only bolster your numbers in men, but in experience against fighting the bastards; they'd give you such an advantage – especially against the emissaries.'

'Nyra, I already asked them to join me.' I stopped pacing and looked up at Cailan. 'I mentioned it when I welcomed you – your father wrote to me. He _declined_ forces.'

'I don't believe you. Father would never go back on his word.' I shook my head. Cailan stood and moved to a very ornate trunk. He unlocked it and brought the missive to me.

I read through the letter quickly, skimming its words; _unfortunate situation… we face every day… allegiance… unable to spare men… _unwilling_ to spare men…_

'This – wait,' I scrutinised the missive. 'This isn't father's hand. My father didn't write this, this is… Bhelen's writings.' I looked up at Cailan.

'What? Are you sure?' I nodded my head, my mouth a grim line. 'That treacherous bastard!' He grabbed the parchment from my hand and glared at it as if somehow he could get it to speak the truth. 'That little – what does he mean to gain from this?'

'Well, if the Darkspawn are running around up here distracting you guys, he's able to make a move against my father without consequence from you.'

'But we humans don't get involved in the politics of Orzammar.'

'If you heard that my father was murdered?'

Cailan sighed. 'Yes, I would probably want to know what had happened to my father's friend.'

'Humans poking their noses around and asking questions, possibly causing the other nobles to start questioning, investigations going on; he can only buy so many votes before people catch on, before they start thinking, "Wait a moment, he's buying, he's weak, there's a chance here for me…" '

'I see your point.'

'Get rid of your siblings and keep the surrounding kingdoms busy. By the time you're done here with the Blight – regardless of outcome – he's made himself king and built an army in case he does actually have to fight the Blight.' I looked at Cailan. 'I _really_ underestimated him.'

He dropped the letter and took my hands in his, 'I promise you, Nyra, I will turn this army around and advance to Orzammar, as soon as this battle is over. Bhelen won't know what's hit him.'

'I'm afraid, Cailan, that there will be no army to turn around after tomorrow.' He raised his hand to my cheek and brushed it, tipping my chin up so that I looked at him.

'I don't want you in the clash tomorrow, Nyra.' He rubbed his thumb over my lower lip as he gazed into my eyes. 'I want you and your trainer, Alistair, to go to up to the tower and light the beacon to signal Loghain to send his men.'

'Cailan, you can't waste Wardens-'

'No, I have my reasons. I can't tell you what they are, but they're there – perhaps you'll find them out if tomorrow goes the way you say.' He looked at me longingly. 'Stay with me, Nyra, stay the night.' I opened my mouth to speak, but his lips descended upon my own cutting off my argument; I hesitated for a moment, before I gave in and returned his kiss, the embers of a fire long distinguished crackled within me. He pulled back, his eyes heavy with desire. 'If this is my last night on this land, give me one night, one night with you, to know what it is to love freely and be happy…'

* * *

'We're _what_?' Alistair shouted at me over the din of men and dogs preparing for battle, as I relayed Cailan's orders to him the next evening; he had come looking for me at Duncan's urging. I had avoided everyone that day to try and make my peace with the stone and my Ancestors. 'He's keeping me out of the battle?'

'Us,' I sighed rubbing at my back, I hadn't slept very well at all. '_We're_ being sent remember – you and I, two of us, not just you. This isn't about you.' I was just as annoyed as Alistair to be denied the right to join the other Grey Wardens, to find my death on the battlefield, but Cailan had promised me that he had his reasons and, either way, I would find them out after the battle.

The sound of the battle horn cried out below us in the valley, the Darkspawn were approaching. 'Come, we don't have much time,' I pulled on his arm.

'This isn't fair – just because he got -' he clamped his mouth shut as I looked up at him, my eyes narrowing. 'Fine,' he sighed, 'let's go do our little bit in _the_ battle of the Blight – Oh the bards will be singing about us for years to come.'

I smirked. 'Well maybe they'll sing of me; you know it would make for a better story if it was the newest Grey Warden, _and_ the fact that I'm a woman and a dwarf – I got the whole package. You're just an extra.'

He laughed as we started trotting towards the tower. 'If you hadn't joined, I'd still be the newest recruit.'

'Ah yes, but now you're just old hat – one of the rest of them. The bards will say there was someone with her, but he's not important.'

'Oh really? And what are they going to tell about you?'

'They'll sing of my beauty, my spirit and-'

The second horn blasted, silencing my words, and the men below roared with courage as they moved forward into the conflict. We picked up speed.

The tower loomed large above us as we ran to it, pushing our way through the confusion of soldiers running in all directions from it as the battle raged on in the valley below. Darkspawn were spilling out of the tower, charging at the retreating men who were being overwhelmed.

'This more like what you wanted?' I cried as I ran towards the fleeing men, gathering them together, ordering them into formation. 'Archers back, Mages before them,' I called out, watching as they moved into the configuration I wanted; the warriors stood forward, causing the Darkspawn to hesitate. Something I had seen a few times in the tunnels – they were waiting orders.

'Warriors,' I shouted, 'hold your position.' They started banging their swords against their shields, causing a deep rumbling throughout the yard we stood in. I could feel Alistair watching me, could hear the hundreds of questions that he wanted to ask, but I had no time to turn to him. 'Archers, Mages, fire!' I shouted thrusting my dagger in the air for those who couldn't hear me.

The Darkspawn roared in unison and ran towards my line of Warriors as the mages and archers fired. It was carnage. The Darkspawn surged forward against the few warriors and guards that had remained, the skirmishers running between them to perform the dance of death that I knew well from down in the Roads.

'Nyra,' Alistair called out as we felled the beasts, cutting our way towards the tower entrance. 'The Alpha, there.' He pointed towards the door of the tower. I nodded, understanding what needed to be done, and slunk into the shadows. I reappeared a moment later behind the beast who was directing the creatures, jumped on its back and slit its throat. With their general dispatched, the Darkspawn force fell apart and we forced our way into the building.

I picked a small contingency of men as we reached the first floor and directed the others back to the clash in the valley below. We had been right in our assumption, most of the monsters had run outside and been dealt with there, there were but a few pockets of the things to dispatch before we reached the top of the structure.

I opened the door at the top of the final flight of steps and froze as I saw the gigantic beast in the middle of the room. It was on its haunches, picking at things from the floor. Alistair ran into me knocking me forward, his armour rattling. The ogre turned around and looked at us, what looked like a human leg hung from its large jaw. It roared, flinging drool and spittle our way, the leg dropping to the floor.

It looked at us, we looked at it. Finally Alistair nudged me. I shook my head, 'For Orzammar… and Ferelden!' I screamed, pointing my blade at the beast. It roared as the men stampeded into the room, before charging at us. The mages flung their spells, the archers carefully placed their arrows, and the rest of us smashed at the creature, as it swung widely at us, seemingly batting off our attacks like we were nothing but annoying flies.

Alistair smashed his shield against the beast's head as it lowered its mighty brow to rush him, but the fiend was too strong and knocked him on his back. 'No!' I screamed as I saw him fall and the ogre raising one of its huge arms above its head. I ran across the room, slid along the floor under the ogre's other swinging fist, knocking our men back. I leapt up and plunged my dagger into its ankle, twisting it before ripping it out and plunging the pair that I carried back into the flesh, trying to slice it open. I was so focused on my task that I didn't see the ogre change its target and its arm crashing down at me. Alistair came rushing towards me and dived at me, knocking me down just in time as the ogre's arm sailed above our bodies.

'Nyra, light the beacon,' he told me as he looked down at me, his body crushing mine. 'Ignore him and get that bloody thing lit.'

'No! I won't leave you to do this on your own.'

'Team Alistair eh?' he tried a laugh. 'Okay, let's try this.' He pulled himself up off me and turned back to the tussle.

'Go team!' I muttered as I pulled myself up and followed. He threw his shield over his back and looped his hands as the Ogre noticed us again and came hurtling in our direction. I stepped onto his palms and jumped as he threw me upwards. I flew towards the beast, my blades raised and crashed into him, slamming them down hard into its flesh. They acted like hand holds, placing me face to face with the giant. It roared at me, drenching me with its spittle, but I just smiled before ripping out one blade and slamming it into the side of the ogre's head. It howled in agony, swaying dangerously before smashing to the floor.

The men with us cheered.

'Get back to the fight,' Alistair commanded them. 'The King needs you.'

I rushed to the beacon and lit it. 'Have they seen it?' I called to him. 'Are we too late?' He ran to the window and peered downwards.

'I don't know – I can't see the Teyrn or his men.' Alistair leaned far over the sill and looked around widely, as I joined him at the window, standing on my toes to get a better view. It was as I said, at least three to one in the enemies favour. I saw Cailan, and my heart lifted a little. He was fighting like a warrior, in the midst of his men, cutting through the tainted bastards with ease.

'Come,' Alistair said, turning away, 'let's join-'

'No!' I screamed, 'Cailan!' Alistair moved back to the window in time to see what I was shrieking at. Another ogre had appeared and it had made directly for Cailan, knocking the men around him out of the way. I turned, unable to watch as it grabbed him, and buried my face in Alistair's chest, his arm wrapped around me. I could only imagine what had happened to my old friend as I felt Alistair take in a deep breath and wince.

'No,' he breathed, 'I don't want-'

I let out a strangled cry as pain burst through my chest, cutting off his words. I stumbled back out of his arms, my mouth gasping for air. 'Nyra!' he cried as his eyes fell to my chest and saw the arrowhead protruding through my torso. He grabbed at my outreached hand trying to hold me up, but my knees buckled and I fell to them in front of him.

I heard Alistair, from what sounded so far away, unsheathe his sword and charge towards my unexpected attacker as I fell backwards. My heart exploded as the arrow pushed through me further. Blackness tinged my vision as I stared up through the collapsed ceiling and saw a giant bird fly through the air… _a griffon? _I thought, before death laid claim to me.

* * *

_I always thought it weird in the game that Cailan would call the newest warden to the very important tactical meeting and that he would send you to the Tower and keep you out of the fight when he didn't know you (especially as you're the newest warden and he loves them so much!). My idea is that he didn't want Nyra to get hurt and also that he knew she was the best person to look after Alistair, his only heir to the throne – of course that only came to me as I got to Redcliff and Alistair made his little confession to me and I went 'Ooooooh'._


	7. Chapter VII: Flemeth's Warning

_Spoiler Warnings: Stolen Throne Novel_

Chapter Seven – Flemeth's Warning

'There was a griffon?' Lowena squealed.

'Oh no.' Nyra grinned at Alistair. 'I'm suddenly having a flashback to a conversation with Wynne.'

'Ah, the infamous "Griffon" conversation,' Alistair laughed. 'No, Lowena, no griffons, but there was a giant shape-shifting bird, also known to us as the Witch of the Wilds,' he offered as he began to tell of their survival from the massacre that still marred their memories…

* * *

'Breathe,' Alistair growled into Nyra's long white hair as he held her tighter in his arms. His back was against the bed head and his arms cradled Nyra as if he could keep her clinging onto life if he clung on to her. He was covered in her blood – but then there wasn't much that hadn't been drenched; the bed, the witches, the floor – as all night he had held her, willing her to keep going, to accept the healing of the Witch of the Wilds who had pulled them from the tower. But the witch's magic wasn't working; Nyra's dwarven resistance was, this time, going to prove to be her undoing.

'Come on, Nyra,' he pleaded with her. 'We've got to get bards singing about you, not much to sing about if you...' his breath caught in his throat. 'Please, Nyra, please don't leave me, not you too.'

Her breathing hitched and then stopped, and Alistair felt his own breath leave in a rush.

'No,' he whispered as the Witch leaned her head against the dwarf's bloody chest and shook her head grimly. 'No!' he cried, holding onto her; tears falling freely down his face and into her hair. He buried his head in her locks and wept. 'You can't leave me, I can't be the only one, I can't be left alone – you have to stay, you have to...'

When the witch shook her head at him, he moved away, resting Nyra gently back on the blood-soaked bed, and pulled a sheet over her naked torso. He looked down at her and brushed her white hair away from her face. She looked peaceful and content, _that's something_, he mused sadly. He turned away and left the room.

'Morrigan,' he heard the older woman saying. 'Let's give this one more go.'

He hesitated with his hand on the door, tempted by hope, before he wrenched it open and stumbled out, blinded by tears, into the cool night air. He had to face it; he was on his own.

* * *

Alistair stood looking off into the distance thinking about how lucky he had been by being sent to the tower and then rescued by the 'Witch of the Wilds' – that was two debts he owed the creepy old woman – but thoughts of his brothers falling after being betrayed by Loghain made his fortune bitter sweet. _How can I be alive when so many are dead?_ His mind begged for an explanation.

There had been over two thousand men in the King's army, another thousand or more in Loghain's; they were outnumbered and yet they had been winning. Why had Loghain left? How could he leave them all? Allow them to be slaughtered; men fighting for justice, for their country, their families?

Everyone knew that Loghain had been King Maric's best friend, so how could he leave his son to die? His own daughter's husband?

So many thoughts swirled about his head; memories of his fellow Grey Wardens and Duncan, who had taken him under his wing and guided him as he left the isolation of his chantry upbringing. But one thought dominated them all; Loghain had killed _her. _Nyra, the beautiful little dwarf who had smiled at him, had reassured him in the wilds and helped him to lead their party, had died in his arms. Her blood soaked his clothes and tinted his skin. He had felt the life drain from her, had felt her heart fail and her breathing stop…

A raw cry of anguish ripped through him as he punched a nearby tree, tears tumbling down his face. Physical pain he could deal with, but this…

'Haven't I already patched you up, boy?' Flemeth's creaky voice startled him. 'After saving your friend I don't have the energy to fix anything else you might break.' He stared at her.

'What?'

'You heard. She lives. When she died, her body was finally able to succumb to my magic. I was able to heal her heart and her wound, and finally revive her.'

He stared at her, dumbfounded for a moment, before he finally managed a whispered, 'Thank you.' He wiped at his eyes as he sank to his knees. All the fury and rage that had been fuelling his body, spurring him on, vanished; relief and hope replacing them. 'You… you have no idea how much that means to me.' He threw his head back and let out an optimistic bark of laughter before giving a silent prayer to the Maker.

_Thank you. I'll look after her, I swear! _

'She is not out of the woods yet, boy.' The witch pursed her lips as she appraised him, looking down her long crooked nose as he sat there, head back, eyes closed. 'She will need time to heal; once I revived her, and what little blood she has coursed through her veins again, my magic failed.'

Alistair peered at her through one eye as she shifted uneasily, suspecting that the notion that someone could be so unresponsive to her will unnerved the aging witch.

'Potions and poultices will have to suffice now.'

'Can I see her?' he asked as he watched Morrigan slipping inside the little hut carrying fresh water, more bandages and jars of coloured liquids.

'In a little while; allow her time to rest first, her body is in dire need of it. My daughter will finish off.'

He nodded, pulled himself to his feet and flung his arms around the unsuspecting witch, with a happy chuckle before he turned back to gaze across the suddenly beautiful Wilds; the rising sun shimmered low in the sky, bathing the land with its warm tones, bringing promises of hope to the new day.

* * *

Something was tickling the back of his hand. He tried to push it away; _far too early to get up_, his tired mind reasoned. 'Stop it,' he mumbled as the tickling started again. The tickling moved from his hand to his nose. He batted it away and snuffled. 'Stop it.' Soft giggling made him jump, his eyes flying open-

'Owww!' He sat bolt upright as something poked him in the eye. Another gasp slipped from his mouth as his back protested at the sudden movement. He had fallen asleep sitting on the floor again, his head resting upon the bed Nyra occupied.

With one hand clamped over his eye he looked around for the source of the sound. Nyra lay staring up at him, her steel-blue eyes wide with surprise, shock and a little horror.

'You're awake!' he exclaimed, stumbling quickly to his feet. 'Oh, Nyra, I've never been so happy!'

She tried to speak, but no words formed on her lips.

'Water?' he asked, moving to a dresser and pouring a cup from a large jug. Her eyes watched him, he could feel them burning into him, a million questions waiting to be asked. Gently he lifted her head and offered her lips the cup. 'That's it,' he coaxed, 'just sip it, no guzzling – it's not dwarven ale.' She spluttered a little, coughing as some of the water went down the wrong way. She grimaced in pain as each cough rattled her delicate chest.

'Sorry,' he muttered, as he eased another pillow under her head, helping her to sit up a little. Without thinking he brushed back her long fringe. 'It's always doing that,' he told her, sitting on the bed to look at her, a sad smile on his lips. 'I don't know how you cope with it.'

'Al-Alistair,' she croaked.

'Ah, the lady remembers me, that's a good start at least. Do you remember what happened?'

'Ogre bashing.'

'Yes,' he sounded amused, 'Ogre bashing. A favourite hobby of mine I must say. Anything else?' She shook her head.

'Wait,' she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Alistair's eyes dropped to her mouth; whilst he had been caring for her, he had memorised every line of her face, counted the fluttering of her eyelashes and smirked at the little snores she made when she turned her head in her sleep.

When they had first met at Ostagar he had thought she was beautiful, but watching over her he had seen her little flaws; her nose that was slightly bent on one side and turned up at the tip, the scar under her eye and her lip had a dent where she obviously chewed it a lot. He had realised she wasn't beautiful, she was breathtaking – her flaws adding to her charm and beauty.

'We lit the beacon,' her weakened voice interrupted his thoughts, his eyes moving back to her own. She stared off into some unseen distance as she tried to recall the events they had both lived through. 'Cailan and Duncan…' what little colour she had in her face left it. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it tightly.

'Morrigan's mother rescued us – she's a shape-shifter-'

'The griffon,' she whispered. He looked at her momentarily confused and made to ask her what she meant when she asked another question: 'Where are the others?'

He didn't speak for a moment, unsure how to break the news. From the little she had revealed about herself in the short time they had been in each other's presence before this mess had happened, he knew that her life had been turned on its head; how did you tell someone that their hope for a new life was again flipped upside down?

Finally, knowing how he hated it when people sugar-coated things, he decided on just simply telling her the truth.

'They all died,' his voice was low. 'Even _you_ died.'

'I…died?' She looked at him with big, questioning eyes.

'It was a hell of a time trying to save you, Nyra.' His voice was soft as he brushed back her hair again, and watched as a shiver ran through her. 'You had to die before Flemeth was able to fix you up…'

'So are you telling me that we're the last?'

'The last in Ferelden, at least.' He sighed heavily. 'Teyrn Loghain didn't even enter the battlefield; he marched his men into a retreat and quit the field.' She hissed, her eyes narrowing as the ramifications of what had happened hit home.

'He murdered them. Sent each one of them to their execution.'

'They were doing better than I expected,' he told her. 'If Loghain had followed the plan, they'd have beaten the bastards back long enough for more reinforcements to have arrived.'

'I'd have gone to Orzammar with Cailan.' He raised his eyebrow in question, but she didn't notice – her expression was filled with fury. 'He'd have had their support; I'd have made sure of it. Without him though…

'I remember now.' She licked her lips and finally looked at Alistair, whose gaze quickly lifted to hers. 'The ogre, the lighting of the beacon, looking out the window and watching that other giant grab Cailan. I remember you standing next to me…'

Alistair's cheeks flushed as he remembered gathering her to him as she turned away from the scene below them, instinctively wanting to protect her from the horror raging around them.

'And then pain… so much pain…' her voice quivered.

'Shhhh,' he soothed her as he shifted closer to her. She leaned forward and buried herself in his frame, his arms wrapping around her as she cried softly into his chest. She had almost died; her life gone, over and done with.

'Thank you, Alistair.' Her voice was muffled against his chest. He pulled back a little and tilted her head to look at him.

'No,' he said gruffly, noticing how the last of her tears clung to her lashes. He brushed them away with this thumbs, holding her face in his hands. 'Thank you for coming back to me. If I had the choice of surviving this with anyone, I wouldn't have chosen anyone else.'

Her eyes softened and her lips parted slightly, as a silent sigh escaped her. His breath stopped in this throat as he looked at her parted lips, a sudden ache burning within him to capture them with his own, to run his tongue along that little dent. If he just leant down slightly…

'Well,' she cocked a smile as she pulled back from him, her cheeks slightly flushed. His hands fell away from her face, but she caught them in her own small ones and squeezed them tightly. 'Who would the bards have sung about if it wasn't me? You?' She looked mock-horrified before winking at him.

* * *

Lowena jumped as Nyra suddenly stood up.

'I have to use the little Warden's room. Please continue, Alistair.' Nyra excused herself, and made for their bedchamber despite what she said. She knew that Alistair's eyes watched her as she left. When the door closed behind her he sighed heavily, and dropped his head.

'Is there something the matter, ser?' Lowena asked, noticing how sad his eyes had become.

'This part is hard for her to hear, something Flemeth warned me about…'

Flemeth hadn't been happy that he hadn't fetched her straight away and told him so when she found them talking on the bed; Nyra propped up against pillows holding hands with Alistair, who sat cross legged half way up the bed.

Alistair had stood there, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks burned, feeling like he was a child again being chided for coming in covered in mud. Nyra had spoken quickly, thanking the woman for her aid, for healing her and not giving up when she probably should have. Flemeth had seemed taken aback by such politeness, as if she hadn't been spoken to in such a manner in years. If ever.

'I will ensure that you haven't wasted your work,' Nyra promised the witch. 'I will give my all to ensure that we put an end to this Blight.'

The witch regarded her carefully. 'I believe you will,' she finally commented. Her head snapped back to Alistair, 'Is that what you have been discussing? Is that what has kept you from seeking me?'

'Ah, yes,' Alistair mumbled.

'Good, then at least you haven't wasted your time.' Flemeth looked over at Nyra. 'Morrigan will come and see to you. Alistair, may I have a word?'

He walked outside the hut; Flemeth seemed to prefer their discussions out in the open as opposed to inside the walls of her home. He thought it strange, but hadn't questioned it.

'I'm sorry that I didn't come and fetch you, Flemeth, I didn't think-'

'No, I don't suppose you did.' The witch looked around them and sighed. 'I will check her over once Morrigan has seen to her wounds. I think it is time to stop the sleeping draughts. Her own body should now know what is best for her.'

'So it is left to us?' Alistair mused, grimacing at the thought. 'Two of us against everything.'

'Boy, stranger things have happened. Your father for one thing – oh yes,' she laughed as he looked at her. 'I _know_ who you are, boy; I know where you come from. Don't worry, lad, I won't tell your friend. Although at some point you will have to, understand?' Alistair swallowed and looked away into the distance. The sky was dark today, rain falling somewhere far in the distance.

'I met him when he was not much younger than you are now,' Flemeth said as she walked around the wood that marked where their cooking fire usually roared. 'Just after your grandmother was killed by traitors, people she should have been able to trust.' The witch's eyes darkened as she looked up and let her gaze wash over him, and he felt as if he was guilty of the same crime.

'Strange, how the past repeats itself.' She mused as she idly threw some dried herbs onto the unlit bundle of firewood, her gaze not leaving his.

'I told him,' she continued as her stare grew stormier, 'that his friend was not to be trusted, that he would keep betraying him, each time worse than the last.'

'Loghain?' Alistair asked incredulously. Flemeth nodded, walking back to him.

'I told him, once he was king, dispose of him, make sure that he… Bah,' the witch barked angrily. 'He never did though – foolish man – and now he is 'lost at sea.' Of all the things.' She shook her head as if she could change everything by doing so. 'Now I have his bastard in front of me, the last of his line…'

'Going to turn me in?' he snapped. To his surprise she slapped him. Hard.

'Do you think I would waste all my time doing this, giving up my bed for your companion if I was just going to hand you over? In all my time…'

'Then what?'

'I'm going to offer you the same thing I offered your father?' She clicked her fingers and the fire behind her sprung to life. Alistair jumped and she cackled as she bade for him to sit. 'I'm going to tell you of your future – a warning if you will.'

'I… err…' his eyes shifted towards the hut.

'Boy, give up the good little templar routine – you never liked the life, why carry it with you?' With slight hesitation he sat and nodded his head to the old woman opposite him. She turned her gaze to the fire and watched its dance. The red and orange flames seemed drawn to the haggard woman, her eyes glazed, her breathing deepening… She sucked in a sharp breath.

'Your future is entwined with the dwarf. Intricately so.' Her voice was strange – strong and yet so far away.

'We are the last of the Wardens, I would take that as a given.' He grinned to himself. _So much for fortune telling._

'I see her… leading – guiding you down the path your future is to take in ending this Blight… and beyond. Her eyes… hardened, decisions this journey will force her to make etched onto her soul. A soul already burdened.

'You both stand side by side as you face the archdemon… you have stood by her side throughout the journey, aiding her in a land so strange.'

'What?' He peered into the flames, his brows furrowed as he tried to see what she was looking at.

'A treasured advisor she will be – as you step forward and lead your people. She will complete the part of you that remains empty, filling your soul with the thing that you so desperately desire. Never will she betray you… nor lead you wrong, but thrice you will have the choice to betray her.' Again Alistair started, but the witch continued as if he wasn't there.

'Set are two. Twice you will choose to do so, as it will save her; first you will end her line. Second you will begin a new… she will forgive you – her heart is large, and your place within it assured… until the third. The third, unclear – you struggle –, but should you fail to keep your promise you will hand her over to her greatest fear, her worst nightmare that she has yet to realise.'

'And if I don't betray her that last time?' he whispered, praying she'd answer him this time.

'The world will change–'

'Fortune telling _again,_ mother?' Morrigan interrupted them, causing Flemeth to jar out of her trance.

'Girl you vex me so!' Flemeth cursed as she looked up at her daughter in the fading light of the day. 'I am sorry,' she sighed and stood up, dusting off her rump as she looked at Alistair. 'The spirits recede, the connection lost.' She glared at her daughter again, before turning back to the young man, who stared up at her with wide, surprised eyes. 'Only time will tell what will happen… it lies upon you now.'

* * *

'Have you betrayed her?' Lowena asked in a whisper. There were a hundred other questions she wanted to ask, but this seemed to be the most pressing. The fortune telling had spoken the truth of the Blight ending, of Alistair leading his people, even if briefly, and of how Nyra had never left his side during it all.

Alistair nodded, his head bowed, ashamed. 'How many times?'

'Twice.'

'But to save her life?' He nodded again and looked out toward the window, the heavy curtains had yet to be drawn and the full moon was high in the sky.

'And you _chose _to?' Again he nodded. 'I see.'

'Once more, apparently still stands before us. Either I hand her over to her greatest fear or the world will change – for good or bad I don't know. I have no idea what it all means – although the moment it presents itself I probably will. That's how it was for the others. Cryptic as hell until it happens.'

Lowena looked at the door where the Commander had disappeared. She didn't blame her for not liking this part of the story. He'd had warnings – he could have avoided them, but dooming her to her death. How, the scholar wanted to know, did someone live with that knowledge? On both their parts. Him living with betraying the woman he professes to love, her living with the betrayals and still giving her heart so freely.

'I think,' Alistair followed Lowena's gaze. 'That she already has an idea painted in her mind of what her worst fear is, but she refuses to voice it, even to me.' He looked back at Lowena. 'When we had left the Wilds I had put it out of my mind, convincing myself that I didn't believe the Witch's warnings.

'It wasn't until the first time that I went against her that I thought about it and confessed the fortune telling. She dismissed it as I had, until the second when I-' he smiled sadly, 'but I'm getting a bit ahead of our story again.' He looked back towards the door and Lowena realised that that was her cue to leave.

'I will bid you good night, ser, and I will come by tomorrow eve to hear more of your tale.'

He saw the scholar out of their quarters and turned toward their bedroom door.

He took a deep breath before he opened the door to their chamber; he could hear the quite sobs through the thick wooden door and his heart always broke at the sound.

He knew that, like many times before, he would hold her to him, comforting her late into the night, telling her of his love, how she was far too precious, too cherished for him to choose to hurt her the way Flemeth suggested.

He would remind her how much he loved her, how he worshipped her body, mind and soul, and then he would show her, making love to her carefully, lovingly throughout the night until she told him she believed him, that all was well between them and that she loved him too.

And then they would sleep until late in the day when she would get up and put on her armour and go and be the strong Warden Commander again.

He opened the door and went to her side.

* * *

_After Reading the Stolen Throne and 'Flemeth' warning Maric I just had to add her talking to Alistair here. She already makes a comment about your future being uncertain when you arrive with Morrigan to get the Treaties, but I thought that it would be better if she could tell them something actually. And she also HAD to know who Alistair was from the get go – she's all knowing after all!_

_I'm not completely happy with the chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it :D_


	8. Chapter VIII: Growing Support

_I know that it has been a few weeks since I updated last, but when the announcement of Dragon Age 2 happened, the information that was released disheartened me a bit and I lost interest in the DA world. I probably won't be buying DA2 (I NEVER play a human in a fantasy game - I play WoW and have no Human Characters, I try and play a the Human Noble and just can't get past the arrival at Ostagar. Shame really as I loved the DA world. It might have been different if I could have played as another race, but alas. However, it doesn't mean that Nyra's story has to end... I can just be a bit more inventive now! Yey!_

_SO we're now at Lothering and I've changed a few things... hope you don't mind :)_

_Thanks for the reviews and the favourites and the alerts! That means a lot to me!  
_

Chapter Eight – Growing Support

'So!' Nyra greeted Lowena as she sat down in what had become her usual seat in their quarters. Lowena thought that Commander seemed a little too chipper and that it probably had something to do with what had been revealed the previous evening. 'Catch me up,' she said a little too eagerly.

'I was just getting to Lothering,' Alistair slipped his arm around his wife as he sat next to her, pulling their usual fur over their legs. Lowena had started thinking of the fur as the Commander's casual armour.

'Oh, did you tell her about Bert?' Nyra asked, her face saddening slightly, her over-cheerful demeanour falling.

'Bert?' Lowena asked looking up, her eyebrow cocked. That wasn't a name she had heard before, nor had it been recorded in Brother **Genitivi's** account of the Blight.

'Ah, he was the Mabari war-hound I saved back at Ostagar. He had managed to escape the horde and find us. He imprinted on me there and came looking for me whilst we made our way to the town.'

'Good boy,' Alistair whispered. The pair sat in silence for a moment, savouring their memories of a precious friend who had long since left them.

Finally Nyra spoke, 'Well, on with our tale…'

* * *

'Well your nose looks like your mothers!'

'I hate you so much.'

'Will the both of you shut the hell up!' They stopped still, eyes wide as I swung around to face them, dagger drawn and ready. 'Four hours! _Four_ hours you two have done nothing but bicker and I am about ready to kill one, or _both_ of you!' I swung my blade back and forth between them. 'I want complete and utter silence until we get to this town… Lothering?' Alistair nodded, lips clamped shut. Bert barked happily at my side and I stroked his head absentmindedly. 'They talk again, you get to eat them.' Bert whined. 'Oh don't you start.'

Finally, much to my relief, the town appeared on the horizon.

'Wake up, gentlemen!' came a young man's voice as he appeared around a stack of crates near the turning on the highway. 'More travellers to attend to led by… a _dwarf_, oddly enough.' He looked down at me amused. 'Greetings, travellers!'

'Are you a welcoming committee?' I asked confused by the introduction.

'Highwaymen,' Alistair whispered in my ear.

'What's that?' I asked blinking up at the polite man who had warmly come to welcome us.

'What a terrible thing to say, ser, I am highly offended,' the man tsked. 'A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on.'

'Oh, a toll collector! Why would that be something offensive?' Alistair groaned next to me. Morrigan coughed, trying to suppress a laugh. The man hesitated for a moment, before grinning widely.

'People do not look favourably upon us, my lady, they like to walk the highways but they do not like putting their hands in their pockets for the upkeep of the Imperial Highway! It's a bit of a mess, isn't it?'

'That's terrible! Of course I'll contribute,' I dipped my hand into my coin pouch and Morrigan spluttered, unable to contain her amusement any more. Alistair groaned again and leant down to whisper in my ear.

'Nyra, highwaymen are _not_ toll collectors, they're _bandits_. They prey on the innocent, extract coin from them and if they can't or refuse to pay they beat them and rob them, sometimes they even kill them.' My eyes narrowed as he spoke and focused on the man again, his men had formed behind him and he looked eager for us to finish our transaction. My hand slowly withdrew from my purse and instantly twitched for my blade. I knew the word bandits well enough from travellers who had sought refuge in Orzammar after being attacked by them in our mountain pass.

'Err…' started one of the man's men, 'they don't look much like them others, you know. Uh, maybe we should just let these ones pass…'

'The toll applies to everyone, Hanric,' the polite highwayman answered. 'That's why it's a toll and not, say, a refugee tax.'

'I am not paying your 'toll' you… scoundrel!'

'Well I can't say I'm pleased to hear that,' he sighed. 'We have rules you know?'

'You do?'

'Yes, if you don't pay, we get to ransack your corpse,' he nodded towards a body not far from the road. 'Those are the rules.'

'You can certainly try!' I smiled as I drew my daggers and allowed the shadows to wrap themselves around me.

'I _have_ to learn that,' I heard Alistair mutter before he charged at the men.

* * *

'I cannot believe that you have _never_ heard of Highwaymen before,' Alistair chuckled as we walked around the town. 'For a moment I thought that you were just acting all innocent until you went to hand them money.'

'Bandits, yes. Highwaymen, no. Don't forget I've lived in Orzammar all my life – we don't have highways! Just Deep Roads… and they're not exactly open for people to travel.'

'Yes, but surely…' he chuckled again.

I winced as a sharp pain pieced my chest and my hand unconsciously flew to it. It had been a little more than two weeks since the _Massacre,_ as we had started calling it, and I still wasn't one hundred percent; the skirmish had been more than a little painful for me.

'Are you okay, Nyra?' Alistair asked me, seeing my discomfort, his arms reached for me; one around my back, the other held my elbow. He had been so attentive to me since we had met, and in all honesty I was enjoying it. My skin heating the moment he touched me bore testament to the fact.

As a princess I had always been tended to by servants and guards because they were ordered to. Gorim knew that I liked space once they were all dispersed with and so had never tried to be the fawning lover. Alistair, however, wasn't doing it out of orders or obligation; he was simply doing it out of kindness and…

I dropped my hand back to my side and stood up straight, smiling brightly at him, suddenly wondering exactly _why_ he was being attentive. 'Of course I am!' He eyed me wearily before dropping his own arms. He nodded and went to speak to the Templars. Morrigan looked down her nose at me and sniffed before moving off to speak to a merchant.

'Hey!' a human woman shouted at me from across the pathway. 'You! Dwarf!' Stunned I stood for a moment as she came scrambling over to me. 'You're the one – you cleared 'em off, you did, I saw it with me own eyes, well that is to say I heards it from Masie.'

'I'm sorry, I don't know what you're-' I tried to protest.

'Ere,' she called to those passing around us. '_She's_ the one – she's the one who did it, cleared 'em off with her blade, she did. Those bastard bandits won't be bothering us again no more.' More people started gathering around and I blushed furiously as they started thanking me, praising their Maker and wishing blessings upon me. Bert barked at them, clearing a way for me to slip through.

I fell into a tavern and closed the door on them. I slid down the door and rested my head back against it, sighing in relief and scratching Bert behind the ear in thanks. Being surrounded in battle was a lot different to being swarmed by grateful people and I understood why my father had only ever allowed me into the commons with my bodyguards.

'Well, well, well, looky what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed by the Maker.'

I looked across the room and saw a number of men dressed in Loghain's armour making their way through the crowded tavern. _Great_, I moaned internally, _just what I need. _Bert started growling as he stood up, alert.

'I thought we had been asking all morning about a dwarf by this very description, and didn't everyone say they hadn't seen one?'

I stood up and moved further into the room, pushing Bert behind me. _Better they get one Grey Warden than two_, I thought. _At least Alistair will be able to go on and gather help._

'Gentlemen!' A redheaded woman approached the men as we met. She stood between us clad in a long dress that did nothing for her figure. 'Surely there is no need for trouble. This is no doubt simply another poor soul seeking refuge.'

'Out of our way, Sister,' the captain of the group shoved her roughly to one side. 'If you insist on protecting a traitor, I've no trouble teaching you a lesson.' The room fell silent as they looked at the men who had threatened the young woman. I furrowed my brow as I tried to assess the situation. Bert and I against four men, simple enough – if I wasn't still aching from the previous battle.

'What makes you think that I'm a traitor?' I started to pull one of my small blades from under my leather skirt, ensuring that they didn't notice, and tucked it into the palm of my hand.

'Did you not hear?' the sister asked me, again stepping up to the group. I realised that her accent wasn't of Ferelden but of Orlais. We rarely got Orlesians in Orzammar, but when we did I listened to them speaking for hours. The man growled at her – whether for the interruptions or because she was Orlesian, I couldn't tell – but she stood fast. I raised my eyebrow; the woman had balls. 'Teyrn Loghain claims the Grey Wardens betrayed the king.'

'Well, how does that make me a traitor? I'm not a Warden; I just came with a merchant caravan.' The men looked slightly confused. 'I'm guarding them on their journey – desperate times can make people a little, well, desperate.' I laughed icily.

'Oh,' the captain said. 'I could've- never mind, my apologies.' He turned and started to walk away when the Alistair came tumbling into the tavern.

'Nyra! Watch out for Loghain's men-'

I closed my eyes and groaned. Ten seconds, that was all I had needed.

'What?' the captain turned back around and I threw my small blade, landing it in his throat. His screams gurgled in his gullet as he fell to his knees. I drew my daggers from my back and stood poised, ready for the other men to attack. The 'sister' also produced a blade and stood by my side as Alistair came forward holding his shield up to protect us.

We waited. The men looked at us, then to their dead captain and back to us, before finally laying down their swords.

'Look, Wardens, we're just following orders – we don't want to get killed, enough of that already going on,' one of the soldiers said.

'Take a message to Loghain, then,' I told them giving Alistair a quick look, his face hardened at the mere mention of his name. 'Tell him he'll pay for what he's done – the Grey Wardens live and we're coming for him.'

'Ye-yes ma'am,' they chorused as if I was their commanding officer. 'Right away, ma'am.'

As they left I turned to Alistair and clouted him across the arm. 'Hey, big mouth. Next time bring a giant glowing red arrow to hold above us, it'll be much easier for them to spot us.' He blushed and mumbled his apology. I went over to the now dead captain and took my small blade back from his throat; his blood gushed over the giant rug that decorated the floor. I turned to the barkeep, 'Take what you can from him, strip his armour – that's Teyrn Loghain's armour, it should fetch a nice price. Keep the coin as compensation for the carpet.' He nodded at me and looked at the doorway. I understood we had overstayed our welcome.

'Wardens, wait!' the sister called out.

I sighed heavily, what I wouldn't have given for my own guards right at that moment. _There had definitely been some perks to being the Princess_, I thought as I turned back to the woman who had tried to intervene.

'Yes?' I was sharper with her than I had meant to be.

'I- I am sorry for interfering, but I could not just sit by and not help,' said the redhead.

'Well thank you, I appreciate it.' I turned to leave again.

'My name is Leliana; I'm a lay sister here, at the Chantry.' I sighed again before turning back to her.

'Okay, I give in – what's a lay sister?'

'Part of the Chantry, but she's not taken any serious vows,' Alistair grunted as he helped the barkeep move the dead captain out of the middle of the room.

'Okay?' I had no idea where all this was going. 'And is there something I can do for you, Sister?'

'Leliana, please call me Leliana, especially if we are going to be travelling together.'

'Fine Leli- What?'

'You see, the Maker wants me to follow you… he knows you need all the help you can get after what happened at Ostagar.'

'Riiight,' I drawled as I took a step backwards.

'What's the matter?' Alistair asked as he rejoined us, noticing my discomfort.

'She said your _Maker_ wants her to join us.'

'He does?' Alistair shook his head and managed a strained laugh. 'Oh no – I can't escape can I? I'm never going to be rid of the Revered Mother watching my every move.'

'I know it sounds absolutely insane, but it is true.' She nodded her head firmly. 'I had a dream – a vision! What you do, what you're _meant_ to do, is the Maker's work. Please, allow me to help you in your quest.'

'If you haven't noticed,' I motioned to myself, 'I am _not_ a follower of your Maker, I don't believe he's out there living somewhere beyond this place – I _don't_ pray to him, I _don't_ sing to him and I have entirely _no_ knowledge of your precious chant.

'And Alistair here doesn't want the Chantry checking up on his every move.' I leaned over to her and lowered my voice. 'He was going to be a templar you know…'

'It's not some dirty secret, Nyra,' Alistair smiled looking down at me.

Leliana shook her head. 'I would not join you as a sister; it has nothing to do with the Chantry, it is _my_ choice to follow you, not theirs.'

'Well, she's a little strange…' Alistair tried to convince me.

'What?' I spluttered. 'Alistair, she's one archdemon short of a Blight!'

'Hey!' Leliana protested. 'I am right here!'

'Yes,' he agreed, ignoring our new friend. 'But she seems more… "Oooh, pretty colours!", than "Muwahahahaha! I am Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill!", you know?' He waved his hands around, stabbing with an imaginary blade, causing me to snigger.

'Fine,' I sighed, trying to stop my giggling, it hurt my chest too much. 'If you fancy her _that_ much…' I smiled as he flushed bright red again.

'I don't – I mean, I wasn't thinking of anything like that…' his eyes grew wide, pleading with me to believe him. I sniggered again.

'Welcome to our Blight, Leliana – but know this; if you end up becoming the Princess of Stabbity, remember that I am its Queen. Understand?'

* * *

'She was the bard of your group?' Lowena asked as she made a note. 'The one that wrote _The Ballad of Blighted Love?_'

'Yup.' Nyra nodded, smiling widely as Alistair cringed. 'Alistair here doesn't appreciate some of the… finer lyrics.'

'I'm called your bloody puppy-eyed lover!' he exclaimed.

'But puppies are cute! Women see puppies and they just fall all over themselves to scoop them up and cuddle them,' Nyra told him. 'It's a huge compliment.'

'Not when she's basically saying that I nearly piddled myself in excitement whenever I saw you!' Nyra stuffed her hand to her mouth to stop from laughing. 'Yes, beautiful imagery.'

'Alistair chased her out the keep when that first got published.' Nyra fell about in the giggles she failed to contain. 'We didn't see her for over a year after that.'

'Bloody woman,' Alistair pouted. 'Over a quarter of an Age later and it _still_ haunts me.'

'Yes dear,' Nyra laughed and turned back to Lowena. 'We collected one more for our rag-tag gang before we left Lothering, a Qunari by the name of Sten.'

* * *

'You horrible little man!' Morrigan's voice erupted through the streets. We rounded a corner and saw her using her staff to smack a merchant on the head. 'How dare you try and charge such a rate for just a flask!'

'Think if she kills him we can get away with just leaving her here?' Alistair whispered, leaning down so that I only I would hear. I shivered as his words caressed my ear. I blushed and made myself focus on Morrigan.

'Tempting,' I smiled at him. 'However we kind of need her, and I really don't fancy conscripting her into the Wardens.'

'Ugh – imagine having to go and tell Flemeth she hadn't survived the Joining.' He shuddered as we approached the gathering crowd.

'I will make sure you-'

'Morrigan, there you are!' I cooed at her as I finally made my way through the crowd. 'We've been looking everywhere for you – we're-'

'This retched _thing _is charging far more than he should! I wanted five flasks and he wants a silver each! They are not worth more than ten bits a piece!'

'A silver a flask; is that really too much?' I whispered to Alistair who nodded, the crowd mumbling their appreciation for Morrigan's stance.

'Look, lady, this is just business okay – I'm the only one here who has flasks to sell, therefore I can charge what I like.'

'If you are dead you cannot!' She moved towards him, I had to hold my arm across her to stop her attacking him again.

'Ser, you are correct – you _may _be the only one with flasks for sale; however, these people are refugees,' I addressed the man, waving my arm out towards those who were watching us intently. 'They don't have the means to pay over-inflated rates. Tell me, how much have you made today?' The merchant looked down at his wares, red creeping into his cheeks, stammering something about overheads and costs of purchase.

'I thought as much.' I folded my arms across my chest. 'I understand you have limited supplies, but these people have limited funds. Perhaps a compromise is in order; instead of charging ten times the going rate, charge twice it. That way people are more willing to pay and you'll actually make a profit instead of going home with nothing… and you'll be less likely to be killed by your customers.' The people around us murmured in agreement.

'Fine, fine,' he fumed, 'One silver for five flasks.'

'I don't want them now.' Morrigan sniffed as she folded her arms and turned away from the man. Leliana giggled, Alistair's hand met his face as he groaned into it and I sighed.

'Here you go,' I fished a coin from our coin purse and gave him the silver, buying the flasks myself.

I handed them to Morrigan once we were away from the merchant.

'Thank you,' she said tucking the flasks carefully into her pack. 'Twas a good job you arrived – I would have hexed that man into the next world should you have not appeared.'

Thinking it best to avoid continuing the discussion I introduced her to Leliana and asked her to take Morrigan in search of other supplies we'd need for the road.

'Are you sure that's wise?' Alistair asked with eyebrows so far up his head I thought he was going to lose them in his hair. 'What if Leliana starts talking to her about the Maker?'

'We're not baby-sitters, Alistair, if they want to follow us they've also got to learn to take care of themselves and each other. I'm not going to act like a mother hen getting them out of every scrape and problem they have.'

'What about me?' He playfully pouted. I chuckled and cuffed his arm, finding myself smiling brightly at him.

'Yes, I'll rescue you. I hope you'll rescue me too. I am, after all, the woman here!'

'I will scale the highest walls, climb the tallest towers and slay all the dragons in the land to rescue you,' he declared. 'Or, you know, pay someone to do it for me.'

'My hero,' I muttered as I rolled my eyes and chuckled again. 'So, I know you suggested going to Redcliff first, but I think we should go to the Circle of Magi,' I told him as I pulled a map from my pack. 'I went there on my way to Ostagar and they seemed favourable to the Grey Wardens. It would be good to be able to go to your Arl friend with at least some support behind us, especially if we run into more of Loghain's men.' I saw Alistair tense at the Teyrn's name again. I stopped and turned to face him, placing my hand on his arm.

'He will pay, Alistair, I promise you that much,' I said, looking into his eyes, resolute in my words. 'I will ensure that either you, or I, remove that head of his.'

'Thank you,' his voice was husky with emotion. 'That… that means a lot to me. I really hope that we can do this.'

'Why couldn't we?' I tried to blow my fringe from my eyes as I struggled to put the map back in my pack. Alistair gently brushed it behind my ear, his fingers caressing my cheek as he did so. I small shiver ran through my body to my stomach again and I bit my lip to stop a sigh escaping.

'Two of us against a Teyrn who has a full army and the regency of the crown?'

'If Paragon Aeducan, a commoner, could singlehandedly raise a dwarven army to beat back the Darkspawn during the first Blight, I don't see why I-' I stopped myself short, realising that I was about to say, _his descendant_. Although we had spoken a great deal at Flemeth's I had yet to tell him who I really was, and I wanted to try and keep it that way. Alistair frowned at my hesitation of words. 'Why _we_ couldn't do the same – there are two of us after all.' Alistair smiled slightly and we carried on.

'What's that?' I asked pointing to a sign on a building's wall.

'It's a Chantry board, it has jobs listed that need doing,' Alistair informed me. 'I didn't think they'd be posting things with all the problems here though.'

'How do they compensate for someone doing these 'jobs'? Or is it just the blessings of the Maker?' I queried as we approached the board.

'Usually it's hard coin.'

'Hmmm,' I mused. 'We could do with some coffers; our supplies won't last forever and we can't guarantee that those- _three sovereigns_!' I exclaimed as I looked at the list that had been posted. 'Those bandits were worth three big fat gold coins – who do I report to?' Alistair laughed and pointed towards the Chantry doors, ushering me through them like a gentleman.

* * *

We proceeded out of the small town, back towards the Highway, with our purse strings full.

Morrigan had tsked when she had heard about what we had been up to. 'Why bother with all these little asides? Isn't your point to build an army?'

'Morrigan, we need funds, we can't do this on empty stomachs, with damaged armour and weapons and we can't rely on handouts from those we meet,' I told her.

'Plus, it puts us in a good light,' Alistair commented. 'If people tell others that actually the Grey Wardens helped them, they'll start to reconsider what Loghain is telling them.'

'So 'tis just merely good publicity you seek?'

'No, that and money. What the hell is that?' I pointed towards a hanging cage with a person standing in it.

'Oh, I remember the Reverend Mother mentioning this man,' Leliana spoke as we walked towards the prisoner. 'She called him a… savage from the far north.'

'Qunari, actually,' the man grumbled as we approached him. 'You are not human,' he stated looking down at me.

I shook my head. 'Dwarf.' He was a lot taller than the average human; my neck ached looking up at him for just a short amount of time. I looked around and saw a crate and pulled it over to the cage, Alistair offered me his hand and helped me up.

'My name is Nyra,' I told him. 'And you are?'

'I am Sten of the Beresaad – the Vanguard – of the Qunari peoples.'

I wrinkled my nose and looked at his trousers. 'How long have you been in here?' It had obviously been some time.

'A little over twenty days now, I think.'

'Ouch,' Alistair muttered. 'You know, Qunari are renowned warriors…'

''Tis true that they are,' Morrigan interjected. 'If you cannot see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone, for he will surely be left here for the Darkspawn.'

'Mercy?' Alistair turned to the witch. 'I wouldn't have expected that from you.'

'I would also suggest that Alistair take his place in the cage.'

'Yes, _that's_ what I would have expected.'

'Don't start you two. Or I will put you _both_ in the cage and leave you here,' I warned. I appraised Sten; twenty days in a cage, unable to sit or lie down, probably little or no food and only rainwater to quench his thirst.

'I find myself in need of skilled help,' I finally told him. 'I am a Grey Warden and sworn to defend the land against the Blight. If I free you, would you stand by my side as a brother in arms?'

'But you do not even know what it is his has done to be in the cage!' Leliana protested. 'I agree, leaving him to the Darkspawn is cruel, but…'

'Leliana, the Grey Wardens do not judge men on their pasts, if they did, half of the Grey Wardens would never be – even I.'

The sister dropped her eyes. 'My apologies.'

'Sten of the Beresaad, would you stand as my brother? Once the Blight is over, you will have atoned for your crimes enough and you would be free to return to your people.' His stance remained unchanged, but his eyes roamed over our group of misfits; a scantily dressed witch, a cloister sister, a dog, and two unprepared and under-armed Grey Wardens.

'Your cause is worthy, if impossible. I will join you.'

I smiled and smashed the lock, allowing the door to swing open.

'Come brother, let's leave this place behind and look forward.' I jumped down off the crate and started off towards the highway.

* * *

_I know that I changed things around in Lothering a little bit, but I think that it makes more sense. I think that it's a bit bigger than the few houses the game makes it be, and why __**not**__ just break Sten from his cage? Why bother going through everything if you're on the edge of the town with no one around – I'm sure that I could smash the lock, or pick it, after all I am a rogue. I also think that if Morrigan was the one buying something off that Merchant who was charging an arm and a leg for things she'd go nuts! I think she's more complicated than she's made to be in the game._


	9. Chapter IX: Campfire Nightmare

Chapter 9 – Campfire Nightmares

'We walked far that day, putting as much distance as we could between us and the town after breaking Sten free. We set up camp that night off the highway as we headed towards the Circle of Magi,' Nyra relayed to Lowena. 'Our first night as a group wasn't the easiest. We had new people with us, people we hadn't formed connections with – although Morrigan and Alistair didn't get along, at least they both knew neither would cause the other any harm.'

Alistair scoffed. 'No – that's what you kept telling me. I was pretty sure she'd turn me into something nasty the moment you turned your back.' Nyra smiled softly at her husband and shook her head. Even after all these years he couldn't find it in his heart to forgive the witch.

'Anyway, that first night was the night that the nightmares started for me. Hideous headaches followed them, and I didn't want to sleep after them – they were my first experience of what the humans call 'dreaming'.'

'Yes, and it wasn't fun. I ended up with a black eye.' Alistair scowled at his wife who just giggled.

'Why don't you tell her how that happened?'

* * *

Nyra's small fist caught him square in the eye. 'Maker, give me strength,' he hissed as he grabbed her arms and brought them to her side, pinning them as he hauled her against his body. 'Shhh, Nyra, it's okay, let it go.' She screamed loudly, almost deafening him, as her petite frame thrashed within the confines of sleep, her hands straining for freedom as she tried to fight him, or _something_, off.

'Why won't she stop?' Leliana asked her voice high. 'What is happening to her?'

'It's the nightmares.' Alistair looked up at their three companions who had gathered around the entrance to her tent. Leliana was concerned, whereas Sten seemed amused by the commotion. Morrigan however, with her normally perfect hair ruffled from sleep, looked ready to kill something. _Probably me_, he thought. 'All Grey Wardens suffer with them, it's part of the Taint. She's sensing the Darkspawn.'

'Oh great,' Morrigan sighed. 'Are we to be awoken every night in this manner?' Alistair glared hard at the witch. 'Oh I'm scared, Alistair, really, shaking in my boots. If that is all there is to this madness, _I_ am going back to bed.' She turned and left the rest of the group to it.

'Hush,' Alistair whispered as he stroked her cheek, quickly forgetting about the others as he turned back to look at his fellow warden. 'I'm here for you.'

'Is there anything I can do to help?' Leliana softly asked. He shook his head no, continuing his soothing ministrations; Nyra was starting to still, her screams becoming whimpers, her hands now staying at her side. 'Let me know if I can, okay?'

'Thanks, Leliana.' She smiled at him and returned to her post. Sten shook his head before also walking away and returning to his bed.

'Come on, Nyra, wake up please. Let the vision go.' He continued to caress her cheek. She would awaken shortly, he knew that, but at the same time his mind kept recalling when she had previously been in his arms, when she had taken her last breath and let go of life. He felt a hollow in his stomach and forced his lips to take breath as he tried to throw off the memory. A few moments later he breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as her eyes finally began to flutter open.

'Well hello, sleeping beauty, you finally waken.'

Her eyes opened and closed a few times before she finally focused her gaze upon him, her eyes clouded with confusion. His hand stroked her jaw softly as his eyes traced her face, lingering upon her lips as her tongue swept over them.

'Certainly an interesting way to wake up,' she said, and watched as his cheeks flooded with colour. 'Definitely a lot more comfortable than the floor.'

'Ah-ha! Yes, that's what I was doing, ensuring our fearless leader isn't left out of battle with backache.'

'Oh, how thoughtful.' She smiled at him. 'But seriously, what's going on?' She flexed her arms slightly; he realised he was still holding them to her sides with his one arm and relaxed his grip upon her. She smiled in gratitude and tired to sit up.

'You don't remember? You were having a nightmare and screamed bloody murder. I thought the Archdemon had come for tea,' he told her as he helped her up.

Her brows knitted together; 'I remember a giant dragon… I think.' She shook her head, trying to make sense of what she had seen, completely unsettled by the experience.

'That was the Archdemon.'

'I don't understand. I don't dream, the _Dwarva_ don't dream. Not like that anyway…'

'It's all part of being a Grey Warden, we sense them, we see them, we're connected to them through the Taint. It gives us the power to do what we must, but it has its consequences…' He considered her for a moment, a thought popping into his head. 'Perhaps that's why you struggled to wake up. Being a dwarf and all. You gave me quite a fright; thought I was going to have to get Morrigan to silence you.' She glared at him and he held up his hands in peace, chuckling lightly. 'Okay, okay, I promise not to let Morrigan anywhere near you when you're sleeping – nightmares or no.'

The tent flap fluttered as a light breeze blew through the camp, the fire light caught his face and she took in a soft breath as she saw the bruise marring his handsome features. She reached out a delicate hand to caress his faintly swollen eye. 'What happened?'

He winced slightly, bringing his large hand up to still her exploration; '_That_, my fair lady, is what _you_ did to me.' Her mouth formed a small 'oh.'

'I did that?' Her cheeks turned pink as his hand slid to her wrist, his large thumb stroking the inside of it.

'Don't worry about it,' he murmured, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were alone in her tent, a tent so small she was almost still in his lap. He looked down at her; her long white hair was loose and hung wildly around her face, making her look much younger than when she wore it back. Her steel-blue eyes were dark in the little light that entered the tent and her skin was flushed. He didn't think that she had ever looked as beautiful as right then – it just wasn't possible.

'Perhaps,' he swallowed and took a deep breath, 'it will give pretty ladies, like yourself, a reason swoon over me. I've heard that wounded soldiers get a lot of attention.'

'That they do,' her voice was husky, as she looked up at him through her long lashes. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned forwards.

'Nyra…'

'Alistair I –'

_WOOF_! Bert stuck his head in the tent and licked Nyra's face happily, ensuring she was alive and well. She burst out laughing and rubbed the dog's head, disentangling her hand from Alistair's. She looked at him as Bert happily snuffled her. His cheeks burned with embarrassing heat as he rubbed the back of his head nervously – had he really been going to kiss her? Did she think he had been?

'Come on,' she said making her way out of the tent, breaking the awkward moment between them. 'It's probably our turn at watch.'

They pulled themselves out of the tent and Alistair watched as she approached Leliana, telling her to go and get some rest for the night. He had no idea what had come over him just moments before. He was certainly attracted to her and Flemeth had all but said he would fall in love, that it would give him the strength to make the choices to save her life… even if it hurt her.

He shook his head, he didn't want to hurt her, but, according to the witch, he was going to have to at some point. If he was to save her he couldn't let his heart lead, he couldn't allow her to see him as anything other than a friend… if he had to betray her, at least her heart wouldn't break over him.

He snorted at his thoughts; _Listen to you_, his mind mocked him. _Acting as if she has eyes only for you, as if you're the most important person in the world to her. For all you know she's got a husband back in Orzammar, someone waiting for her, someone sick with worry about how she is. All she's done is treat you as an equal, as a fellow Warden. Why would a woman like her, look at someone like you? _

He shook his head, trying to block out the mocking voice that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. _No-one wants you and no-one will._

_

* * *

_

'I always made Alistair do the perimeter walk,' Nyra told Lowena. 'He had longer legs than me so he could get it done quicker.'

'You always try and use my legs as an excuse… "Alistair could you fetch me some water please? Alistair can you go and get so and so? Alistair, whilst you're up could you pass me that?"' He shook his head in disbelief. 'And every time I ask why you can't do it…'

'"You're legs are longer than mine!"' they chorused.

Nyra giggled as Alistair glared at her before grinning foolishly. He loved hearing her laugh. Sometimes he was glad that she was the big scary commander to others and only he was privy to her musical laughter, but at the same time he thought it so wonderful that it was a shame the world was deprived of it.

'When I came back from the perimeter walk, Nyra was deep in thought planning our route throughout Ferelden.'

* * *

Nyra was deep in thought when Alistair sat beside the campfire, leaning back against the log that separated the fire from their tents; he rested his head back and looked up to the stars. Although he, Nyra and Morrigan had travelled throughout the Wilds together to get to Lothering, when night had fallen the three of them had taken separate watches. This was the first time he was able to spend some real time alone with Nyra since they had first met; even when in Flemeth's hut they had constantly been interrupted by one of the witches.

There were so many things he wanted to ask her; he didn't even know why she was exiled. She could be anyone, have done anything, and although that was the way of the Grey Wardens as a general rule, they were the only two left now – they needed to trust one another. _And how can I trust someone I don't know?_

_But will you tell your secrets too? _Another part of him questioned. _It works both ways._

'Okay, I know I mentioned this briefly back in that town,' Nyra murmured quietly, as she continued to look over the map. 'But our first point of call is the mage tower. I estimate about a sixteen day trek.'

'Try twelve if we push ourselves.' He didn't look at her as he spoke, his mind still a million miles away.

'I have little legs remember.'

'Then ride the dog.' Bert woofed from his position and Alistair chuckled. 'See, he doesn't mind.'

'Alistair.' He sighed and raised his head to look at her. Her eyes were filled with concern; she made to say something before closing her mouth and returning to her map.

'We'll aim for sixteen – we might be able to do it quicker, but we don't want to be exhausted should we come up against any more of Loghain's men, or… anything else we don't like. Have you ever been there before?'

'Once, as part of my templar training I had to attend a Harrowing – it was not a happy experience I'm afraid.' He grimaced at the thought, resting his head back to the log, thinking of the day he had been taken to the Circle and led to that chamber at the very top of the tower. He had watched as the pretty young girl was led into the room, her short, curly red hair tucked behind her ears, her eyes wide with apprehension and uncertainty. He closed his eyes as he remembered watching her reach for the pedestal at the centre of the room and then passing out as her fingers touched it.

'What's a Harrowing?'

He had been waiting for that question.

'Remember I told you how we were able to stop apostates and maleficars?' He assumed she nodded. 'Well there's another danger from the Magi – demons. Mages walk the fade when they sleep, they tap into the fade to use their spells, and they are able to summon things from it and control them if we allowed it to happen. However, because of this, they are prime targets for the demons that live within the fade.

'When they go into their Harrowing they are set against a demon, it is more than likely their first encounter with one, and they are tested to see if they can resist its lures. If the demon comes back with them, we have to kill them.' He peered through one eye towards her.

'Oh,' Nyra shrugged, still looking over her map. 'Fair enough – makes sense, you don't want demons running around on the loose.'

'However, they have a time limit. If they don't wake up, demon or no, in a set time, they kill them.'

At that Nyra's head shot up. He raised his own to look at her. Many people in Ferelden didn't see a problem with what the Templar's did. The Magi were looked down upon almost as much as elves, no one wanted one in their family, they were trouble, and the quicker rid of them the better.

'Wait,' she said, narrowing her eyes. 'So just because they take too long, they're killed? No discussion?' He shook his head. 'No trial?' He looked a little confused, but shook his head again. 'And no one protests this? The mages don't question it?' For the third time he shook his head. 'Bastards!' she hissed. She looked towards the fire, her body rigid, shoulders square; her whole countenance radiated her anger.

He had expected some sort of nonchalant answer from her, after all the dwarves were not known for their tolerance, but for her to exclaim such fury intrigued him. What did a dwarf have in common with a circle mage?

'Did the woman wake up? In time, that is.' Her voice was quiet and… hopeful?

'No.' Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head sadly.

'Was it you who had to…?'

'Yes.' His voice was bitter and hard.

She said something harsh in her native Dwarven tongue. He didn't understand the words, but he got the sentiment.

'I didn't have much interest in becoming a full Templar after that. But, unlike the others, I had no choice about my training, or my life at the chantry.' He sighed and stared into the fire, his mind a whirl with thoughts of his unhappy childhood, his isolated teenage years, and now alone, all of his friends killed by a traitorous bastard, who claimed to have been his father's best friend. He would have no problem killing Loghain without question or a trial.

'Every day I thank Duncan for coming to that tournament, for asking me to fight, and taking me away from there…' he trailed away as his voice became deep with emotion.

'You haven't spoken much of him since… well, since we were thrown into this. Do you want to talk?'

'You don't have to do that,' he said quietly. In all honesty, he had tried not to think about his mentor, had tried not to dwell on the deaths of his friends. When he did, he became angry, desperate for vengeance with a lust for blood. It wasn't him, and he didn't like it.

'I just thought you might need to talk… when my mother died, my father talked non-stop of her to me. My step-mother didn't like it, but it was something we both needed. He was like a father to you, I understand that, and I just thought…' she trailed off as she watched large tears form in his amber eyes and fall onto his cheeks.

'I've tried to handle it like he said I should,' his voice was gruff, coated with emotion that was desperate to escape. 'He told me it could happen – that any of us could die in battle. He told me that I'd have to go on without him one day… I've been trying to do that-' A huge hiccupping sob escaped his lips and he wiped his eyes furiously, trying to stem the flow of tears.

'Don't hold it back, Alistair,' Nyra said quietly, her voice tender and kind, as she came over to him. She knelt at his side and tried to draw him to her, wrapping her arms around him, allowing him the chance to let his pain escape. He refused to move and didn't yield to her embrace; if he did he'd be weak. He had to be the warrior that Duncan expected him to be; that she needed him to be. He had promised he wouldn't see her hurt, that he'd take care of her, it wasn't supposed to be her taking care of him.

'Let it out. If you hold it in, it will eat away at you, fester within you until you're gone and all that's left is emptiness and… anger. Duncan wouldn't want that for you.' He shifted towards her slightly, her warmth and softness enticing him near, but still he tried to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape. He had never had anyone hold him before, had never had anyone to turn to when he was upset, when he had needed to unburden himself from the pain he endured.

When he had been sent to the Chantry in Denerim for his Templar training, he and a couple of other boys his age had quickly learnt that no one wanted to hear your story, no one wanted to comfort your pain or stem the flow of your tears. There was only you and the Maker, and it was he that you should turn to when you hurt.

'If you do not grieve them, do not share their memory, you do them no honour-' Another huge sob escaped him and this time he turned into her embrace, holding her tightly he buried his head into her chest and allowed his grief to spill out. The Maker had never done this for him. The Maker had never whispered soothing words in his ear, or wrapped him in soft, warm arms. The Maker had never gently stroked his hair, nor had the Maker tickled his nose with the smell of fire and ice. And never had the Maker ever made him feel so welcome and at home.

After a time his sobs subsided and he slowly relaxed his grip upon her small frame, but the softness of her bosom and her warm whisperings caressing his ear, stopped him from completely releasing her. This was what he should have had in his life; comfort and support, not the isolation and disregard he had faced throughout it.

'I'd like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once all this is done, if we're still alive,' he murmured against her. 'I don't think he had a family to speak of.'

'What about the other Grey Wardens?' she asked as she pulled back from him slightly, forcing him to lift his head and look at her. He relished the fact that her small arms were still around him. 'He may have been like a father to you, but they were your brothers too.'

'I… I don't know. I don't know what the Grey Wardens do when one of us fall in battle, but we should do _something_ to commemorate them all. Dwarves don't practice cremation do they?' he thought aloud.

'We entomb our dead within the stone beneath our thaigs. Their spirits return to the rock, strengthening their foundations.' A grin crossed her face. 'Then we go and have a giant piss up at the nearest tavern and tell tales about the departed. Good times.'

He laughed at the image of her drunk. Dwarves were known for their ability to drink, but he couldn't image her being able to stomach the stuff. 'I bet you're a cheap drunk.' Her hair was still loose and he brushed it from her face, his hand tangling within it.

'I'd drink you under the table any day!' she retorted, as she reached up and brushed away the last of his tears, her fingers lingering at his jaw.

'I should think the dog could drink him under the table.' Morrigan's smooth voice interrupted them. Their arms dropped away quickly, and Nyra turned to face the witch as she approached the fire. Alistair gritted his teeth; he had so many questions to ask her and another chance to get to know his partner was ruined by the witch's presence.

'Morrigan,' Nyra greeted the woman coolly.

'I could not sleep after you awoke me with your screams.'

'Oh, sorry,' she muttered.

'You've got nothing to apologise for,' Alistair told her, glaring at Morrigan. The witch ignored him and sat down at the fire, her arms stretching along the length of a second log as she leaned back across it, closing her eyes and relaxing.

Nyra shuffled back to her map and began staring at it once again, tracing the lines of the roads. Her fingers fell on Denerim and her face frowned. She seemed to contemplate something as she nibbled at her bottom lip again. He wondered what was perplexing her so.

'So,' she said after a while, her eyes telling him she had finally made whatever decision had been on her mind. 'Off to the Tower and then on to Denerim. I have a… contact there – I hope – and we need information. We need an ear on what's going on there, and we can't rely on idle gossip we hear.'

'Ah, going directly after Loghain, I approve,' Morrigan drawled, although she hadn't moved a muscle. If he hadn't heard her voice he would swear she hadn't spoken. 'Much easier to go about the rest of this treaty business after he has been dispatched.'

'No,' Nyra shook her head; she hadn't even looked up at the witch. He wondered if it was only him who liked to look at people when they spoke. 'It wouldn't be wise to go after him there. Even though I might be able to get past his guards and do the deed, we have no support. The crown would be up for grabs – your queen isn't true nobility – and the nobles would split for sure… no, we just need to know what's going on, and what moves he's making.'

Alistair waited for Morrigan to protest or comment her disagreement that Nyra was wrong, but she did nothing. If it wasn't for the hypnotic rise and fall of her barely covered breasts – how did she get away with wearing such a garment? – he would have thought she was dead.

'Once we've seen and heard the situation there with the humans we'll be able to head south again to the forest… I heard back in Lothering that the Dalish wander a little further south this time of year – they might not have heard of the Blight yet. Then we'll have two of the treaties sorted. After that I thought that we'd look up your Arl friend, see what he has to offer to us before you go and secure the armies of the Dwarva and then it's off to fight-'

'Wait,' his head snapped away from Morrigan's hypnotic chest. The witch suddenly raised her head and glanced at the two of them. 'You said before _I _go and get the dwarves, me… and where will you be?'

'Cheering you on from Redcliff?' she said hopefully, fluttering her eyelashes at him, trying to look sweet and innocent. Morrigan snorted at her dismal attempt.

'Oh no, fair lady, you're not getting out of that one! If _I_ have to go to Denerim, _you_ have to go to Orzammar.'

'I can't go to Orzammar, Alistair, I was _exiled_. My name has been stricken from the memories, I am no longer a child of the stone – I am no longer welcome there.'

'Then we'll just have to sneak you in.'

'Fool,' the witch muttered.

'Have you ever been to Orzammar?' Nyra asked him, ignoring Morrigan's attempt at trying to rile them.

'No,'

'Well Orzammar is protected by these massive, _huge_ doors – seriously picture the biggest door you can imagine and then double it.'

'That's a big door.'

'Yup,' she smiled at him. He felt himself smiling back, forgetting about the witch sitting not far from them, completely captivated by her eyes that seemed to twinkle at him. 'But you're still not really getting the gist of how big they are. Anyway, these giant doors are guarded by some of the finest guards Orzammar has to offer – lots of them. A full battalion.'

'Starting to get the picture,' he chuckled. 'But it doesn't matter – you're no longer the Nyra they knew, as you said that person doesn't exist anymore. You are Nyra the Grey Warden, and _she's_ not been exiled from Orzammar.'

She stared for a long time at the flames in front of her before she spoke, her voice soft as if she was far away. 'I will try, Alistair, I'll try, that's all I'm promising – but if they refuse, you will have to do it alone – we cannot risk completely alienating them from this, we need them.'

'Nyra, I'm not a leader – bad things happen when I lead, remember. We get lost, people die, and then next thing you know I'm stranded somewhere without any pants!'

She burst out laughing and shook her head. 'Now why didn't I see that in the Wilds?'

'I, for that reason alone, am grateful that you are our leader, Nyra.' Morrigan shuddered at the image of him pantless.

'I have a question,' he began, 'but you don't have to answer it if you don't want to.' Nyra looked at him sceptically for a moment before slowly nodding her head. 'You've said you were exiled, but you've never said why. What did you do?'

She bit her lip before letting out a long, weighted sigh. 'I was accused of killing my older brother.'

'Did you?' It was Morrigan who posed the question, her interest piqued.

'No, I was framed.'

'Do you know who did it?' Alistair asked with wide surprised eyes.

'Do you mean do I know who cut his throat or who ordered it?' Alistair looked at her confused, not sure what she meant. Morrigan sighed in frustration.

'Who ordered it. Obviously if someone framed her, they are not going to risk doing the deed themselves – they are required to be free to point the finger.'

'My younger brother.' Alistair's eyes grew wider, even Morrigan looked taken aback. 'He set us both up – and he must have been planning it for a long time… we just never took any notice of him. No one did. That's what makes it so easy for him to look innocent. He never did anything. _Ever_.'

'Why?' Alistair asked. Nyra shrugged and looked away from them both. He realised that that was all he was going to get from her for now. Trust had to be earned, and he had yet to earn it completely he realised. He didn't know a lot about dwarven politics, but he wondered was murder always rewarded with such a dire decision such as walking the Deep Roads, or was there something more to her tale? Perhaps she had been more than just a Captain in the army and an example had to be made to those below her?

'Alistair,' Morrigan's voice was low. 'Women are supposed to have secrets. Nyra should not spill them all so soon. 'Tis my time for watch,' the witch said as she yawned. 'Perhaps you should both retire for the eve.'

Alistair stood up, he didn't need to be told twice, but Nyra remained seated. 'You're tired, Morrigan and it's my fault. Why don't you go back to sleep and I'll keep watch. I don't think I'd be able to sleep much anyway.'

'As you wish.' Morrigan looked her over once before pulling herself up and returning to her set up.

'Good night, Nyra.' Alistair turned and made his way to his tent, but stopped when Nyra's soft voice called to him.

'As much as you profess to hate her, Alistair,' Nyra forced a lightness to her tone. 'You look at her chest an awful lot.'

* * *

_Okay, so I have almost rewritten Chapter 10 to my satisfaction (kinda), and it should be sent to my wonderful beta Jo, this evening. I have rewritten chapter 10 about 8 times, no joke. My problem is, I wrote up to chapter 10 before I started posting and I now have up to chapter 12 finished and 13 started. However, as I was re-reading a few chapters, I decided that this chapter needed a huge overhaul and then chapter 10 needed to be completely rewritten! Luckily 11 doesn't need too much tweaking now, and 12 is unaffected! YEY! So I'll go get back to writing now so you guys can get Chapter 10 asap!_


	10. Chapter X: Midnight Confessions

Chapter 10 – Midnight Confessions

Lowena's eyes were wide with surprise at Alistair as she mulled over the words Nyra had said. Perhaps she hadn't heard him right, perhaps she had said something else? However, the fact that Nyra was bowled over in a fit of giggles seemed to confirm that he had spoken the truth.

'Oh, I had forgotten about that!' Nyra brushed away a tear as she slapped her husband on the leg. 'You and the witch tits!' she howled with laughter again. Alistair grinned at her.

'Most. Embarrassing. Moment. Ever!' he punctuated his words for effect. 'There I am, pulled apart over feelings for Nyra, wondering do I like her? Is there really a chance if I do? Does she like me? Is it sensible? What about Flemeth's warnings? Can dwarves and humans even…? And she goes and pulls me up on looking at Morrigan's breasts!' He shook his head. 'I was mortified!'

'The poor guy didn't even speak to me properly for over a week! Of course, I had no idea that I had embarrassed him so much, or that he was struggling with an attraction towards me. In fact, I didn't realise that fact for a little while, but of course, not knowing any of this, I got the wrong end of the stick…'

'Didn't she just,' Alistair rolled his eyes.

_o-O-o_

'So the next village we pass through should be Langdale,' Alistair pointed to a spot on the map. He noticed how she held her bowl away from the map, as she leaned over to peer at where his finger pointed, stopping anything from spilling on it. He frowned as he looked down at the marks of porridge and gravy he had managed to get on it over the week since they had left Lothering. Why hadn't she mentioned his sloppiness? It was always something he was pulled up on at the Chantry – although since he had joined the Grey Wardens he hadn't cared much, none of them did.

'Okay, so how far is that?' she asked blowing her fringe out of her eyes as she stuck her spoon in her mouth.

'About six miles,' he told her as he leaned over and brushed her locks behind her ear. He shouldn't, it was such a personal thing to do, but he took any excuse he could to touch her. And her hair was as soft as it was unusual in colour. His fingers lingered at her jaw for a moment.

'Thanks,' she said as she looked up at him. It was at that moment that her tongue darted out to swipe at a lingering smear of gravy. He bit down a groan and snatched his hand back, raking it through his own hair. 'We should definitely pass through it tomorrow.'

'Want the rest of this?' she offered, knowing full well he wouldn't refuse it.

'You sure you're a Grey Warden?' He eyed her suspiciously. She was the only Warden he knew who didn't have a ravenous appetite. She nodded her head and turned back to the map; he watched her eyes flicker over the map and process the information he had given her. He marvelled at how quick she was able to process things, assess situations, and calculate what their next course of action should be.

'Okay, we could do with topping up our supplies. How long do you think before we're at the tower?'

'Well you've been keeping up pretty well, considering you've yet to ride Bert.' She looked up at him, raising her eyebrow at him. 'I'd say four or five days, depending how long we spend in the village.'

'Good,' she said nodding, before folding up the map. She started to say something to him, but from the corner of his eye he saw Morrigan and her barely covered chest approaching.

He swallowed and excused himself, walking quickly to Leliana, reciting Transfigurations 10:1 in his head._ The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world, She shall know true peace._

'Again?' He heard Morrigan ask as she joined Nyra.

'Again,' she replied.

_o-O-o_

A few nights later he turned the page of a book he was pretending to read as he mulled over the situation the party had gotten itself into, and he knew that he was largely to blame. It had started to happen only a day or two after leaving Lothering – the group had begun to divide. He had to be an idiot not to have noticed, and he was sure the others had too.

Sten, Morrigan and Nyra would bring up the rear of the party, travelling in relative silence, their thoughts on their surroundings or personal things, whilst he and Leliana led the way – the only two who knew where they were going.

He hadn't meant to exclude Nyra from their little duo, and he hated that it had happened that way, but Leliana knew the Chant and could discuss matters of the Maker and stop his mind from wandering. He had never spent much time around women who were not Sisters and between the witch's bosom and Nyra's beautiful face, he was a condemned man. Whenever he lay down at night, Nyra's face was waiting to greet him as he fell into his favourite dream; a home, a wife and children playing in the garden, and the smell of dinner hanging in the air. The wife had always been different whenever the dream fell upon him, but since Flemeth had rescued them, the woman was always the same; Nyra.

However, things were starting to get tricky with Leliana too. Only a few nights ago she had asked him why, if he was so passionate about the Chant and the Maker, he had chosen not to take his vows and become a full Templar. He had been stuck for an answer, unwilling to tell her the real reason he had built a friendship with her, and blessed Nyra as she screamed through the night, another nightmare claiming her sleep.

Another wave of guilt hit him as he turned another page. He was neglecting her and his duties as her Warden trainer by ignoring her and her nightmares, and he knew he was but it meant that he had an excuse to go to her when she slept, hold her hand and comfort her when she woke up, even if for just a few minutes, before he would scurry back to the safety of his own tent and fall into the welcoming dream.

Of an evening when they set up camp, he joined her near her tent to tell her where they were and where they were going next and how long he estimated they had remaining. But every time they started to get talking about other matters the wicked witch would rear her head. He sighed.

He supposed that that was unfair – Morrigan had actually kept her barbs to herself since they had left Lothering, but something still bothered him about her, something he didn't trust, but couldn't put his finger on. Perhaps it was the impure thoughts she gave him by having her breasts so barely covered.

He groaned again at the thought of Nyra catching him staring at Morrigan's breasts and felt himself turning red. He looked across the camp and saw Nyra bending over to reach for her dagger as she prepared to spar with Sten.

_Many are those who wander in sin,_ he thought quickly.

She dropped her blade and had to pick it up again.

_Despairing that they are lost forever._

Nyra reached up stretching, her leather skirt riding high and exposing her legs, as she loosened her muscles in anticipation of a workout.

_But the one who repents, who has faith…_

Sten approached her from behind and placed his hand on her shoulder, she looked up at him and smiled, before turning around and taking up her stance, her whole body prepared for battle instantly.

_Unshaken by the darkness of the world…_

Sten took a swipe at her and she dodged, bringing her blade quickly around on him, raising it high. The way he had extended himself, exposing his chest, meant it would have struck his heart had they been truly fighting. The Qunari held up his hand and smiled. She nodded and returned to her stance, ready to battle again. Twice more she bested him.

_And boasts not, nor gloats over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight…_

She squealed with laughter as Sten threw down his sword and picked her up, turning her upside down, holding her by her feet. Her long hair swept the ground and her face was going bright red, but she couldn't stop laughing as he tickled her. He muttered something that made her laugh harder. Alistair gripped his book tighter as the thought of doing that himself, somewhere private and in a more intimate way, crossed his mind.

_In the Maker's law and creations, She shall know the peace of the Maker's benediction. _

Sten lowered her to the floor and picked up his sword, looking down at her with the slightest hint of a smile, ruffling her hair as if she were a child, before he turned and walked away back towards Morrigan's area. He frowned. The three of them did get on awfully well, even after such a short time together. He wondered how she did it.

She looked around, fixing her ponytail by pulling it tighter. She saw him looking at her and beamed him that beautiful smile she had as started to walk over to him.

_The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next._

'Interesting book?' Leliana's accented voice whispered into his ear, making him jump. He turned to see the former sister kneeling next to him, smiling as she looked between him and the tome.

'Just something I picked up back in Lothering.' He closed the book, and hoped that his voice sounded normal. 'It's about the Urn of Sacred Ashes.'

He looked over to where Nyra had been and was disappointed to see her turn away and walk towards Morrigan.

'_Andraste's _Ashes?' the red-head squealed in excitement. 'Why did you not say so?'

'I didn't think.' He tried to look apologetic. 'Sorry.' He watched as Morrigan frowned at the dwarf and shook her head. He wondered what they were speaking about. He was certainly surprised when the witch pointed towards them and almost shooed the girl away from her.

'You know, they say that it is real.' Leliana was, of course, eager to discuss the topic. 'That when Andraste was burned, Harvard gathered the ashes together and hid them away in a mountain somewhere protected and watched over by _dragons_. He watched over them all his life with a small group of people sworn to protect the urn that her ashes rested in. When he died he passed on his charge to those he had taught and they too watched over the urn. But throughout the centuries the teachings got confused, and the people who watched over them were misguided through the misinterpretations of Harvard's original words.'

'Umm, yes, I've just finished reading that section,' Alistair told her, hoping she wouldn't ask too many questions, and raking his brain for something that he had heard in the past about the story. 'They…they say that they started to believe that the _dragon_ was Andraste reborn and not a protector… why would the prophetess come back as a dragon?'

'What I want to know,' Nyra's voice sounded from nowhere, and Alistair jumped slightly again. He looked around and saw her trying to stand casually next to his tent. 'Is how the Chantry can tell them they're following the wrong practices when they're not the ones that Harvard passed the teachings to?' she continued. 'For all the Chantry knows that Harvard bloke told them that Andraste was the dragon.'

Alistair looked down at his book.

Leliana looked confused. 'Why would he do that?'

'Why would Loghain say the Grey Wardens killed the King?' Alistair's head shot back up, his eyes narrowed. How had they gotten from Andraste to the traitorous bastard Loghain?

'I do not understand.' Leliana's brow furrowed.

'People do things for their own purpose, Leliana,' Nyra told the red-head simply, still standing at the side of the tent; she moved from one foot to the other and looked at him expectantly. He blinked, wondering what she was expecting. Sighing, she continued.

'Sometimes we don't understand why they're done until a long time afterwards. What if this dragon has a connection with the ashes that only Harvard understood? Wouldn't it be easier for those followers to believe it was Andraste? If the dragon is sworn to protect the ashes, then they're sworn to protect the dragon through their belief. Like a backup plan.'

'What's that got to do with Loghain?' Alistair finally found his tongue.

She shrugged. 'What if he felt the Wardens were using the King as a way to help Orlais invade? Ferelden didn't have a large Warden population; a Blight would require more Wardens to come in from other countries – Orlais being the closest. If the Orlesians wanted a way into Ferelden they could come in under the premise of following their Wardens and stopping a "Blight". Once the "Blight" is stopped, they take advantage of a ravaged country.'

'The wardens are politically neutral,' Alistair argued back. He knew he hadn't taught her much about the Wardens, but what she was saying didn't make sense, they knew that there was an Archdemon – they'd seen it in their dreams.

'Oh, is that why they were exiled from this land for over two hundred years?'

Alistair made to say something and then closed his mouth again. _Point taken_, he thought. 'But we've seen the Archdemon,' he finally managed.

'Yes, but what proof do other people have? Only our word.'

'But why kill the king?' Leliana tipped her head to the side as she pondered her own question. 'Why not just slay the Wardens?'

'From what I heard around camp, Cailan was enamoured with the Wardens and the tales of his father's travels with them.' Alistair's thought his head might come off the way he moved it so quickly. What did she know of his father and brother, and _why_ did she keep calling him _just_ Cailan, rather than _the King_?

'It is well known in Orzammar that King Maric travelled the Deep Roads during the Rebellion, aided by the Legion of the Dead,' she explained, obviously seeing the interest upon his face. 'And then again afterwards _with_ the Grey Wardens – it is why… King Endrin welcomed him so often into the city; he continually hoped that we would be aided in our plight after King Maric had seen what we faced.

'But I digress,' She moved the conversation back to the original discussion, rather than the constant complaints of the Dwarva. 'As I said, Cailan was enamoured with the Wardens and was therefore blinded to a potential threat from them. It makes tactical sense to remove and replace him with someone who has their eyes open to it.'

'Are you sure you were just a captain?' Leliana questioned, looking at the dwarf with suspicion in her eyes.

'What can I say? I had a knack for leading and tactics – good job too, all things considering…'

'So, are you saying that Loghain thinks that the Wardens were plotting to help an invasion from Orlais and he killed King Cailan because he was blinded to the fact?'

'It's just a theory, one of many possible ones. After all, I don't know for certain, it's not like Loghain has told me personally…' Nyra shrugged her shoulders and turned to leave, looking slightly deflated. 'Guess I'll go to bed.'

'Why did you not invite her to sit?' Leliana asked him quietly as they watched the dwarf hurry away. Alistair groaned.

_o-O-o_

_From across the campsite, Morrigan watched with interest as she saw Nyra approach the holier-than-thou duo. She stood talking for a few minutes before slinking away again, off to her tent. The witch cursed and retired to her own shelter. _

_Inside she whispered a familiar incantation, turning herself into a cat, and crept out, making her way around the camp towards the dwarf's tent. _

_Once behind the structure she re-appeared as herself, whispering a few more words. Her fingers sparkled and the light disappeared under the canvas of Nyra's structure. _

_She shook her head sadly before returning into her cat form and creeping away back towards her own encampment._

_o-O-o_

'You are very quiet tonight, Alistair,' Leliana told him as he sighed and rested his head into the cup of his hand. 'Do you want to talk?' He shrugged in response.

_It's your own fault, _he scolded himself. _You're the one who segregated the two of you from everyone else. _He sighed again. He really missed the other Wardens, sure they'd make fun of him, but only in good nature – they knew that he could give most of them a good going over in a duel.

'It has been over an hour now since everyone went to bed and you have yet to talk.'

He sighed again heavily. 'I just-'

Nyra's scream echoed through the night again. He jumped up, the guilt instantly gripping his chest, and headed straight to his fellow Warden's tent.

He knelt down at her side and took her small hand in his, grateful that at least they weren't as violent as they had been the first few nights in camp. Perhaps soon she'd be able to block them out without his help after all.

'Shhhh,' he whispered. 'It's okay.' He watched as her head turned sharply towards him as he spoke, interrupting the nightmare slightly. 'It's just a dream, it's not real.' His other hand sneaked towards her cheek and stroked it gently. She mewed softly and he knew in a few moments she'd wake up and look at him confused for a breath or two before she'd finally sigh and then smile up at him. He'd smile back, and for just a second he could forget the whole world and everything going on in it. It would be just the two of them.

Her eyes flickered open and met his, but instead of looking relived, she scowled at him and took her hand away from his. He blinked in surprise, but smiled down at her, and made to help her up as he always did, but she brushed him off.

'You okay?' he asked.

'Fine. Getting used to them now.' Her voice was cold. 'Perhaps soon I'll stop screaming and disturbing you all.' His cheeks flared red, her voice echoing his own thoughts only moments ago.

'Nyra, that's not-'

'Thanks for waking me.' He watched as she got up and left the tent, leaving him sitting there, speechless, wondering what the hell he had done. It couldn't have been something he said… could it? He groaned, perhaps it was everything he _hadn't _said. He made his own way out the tent and looked around.

Leliana was walking the perimeter and Nyra was sitting near the campfire, her knees pulled up to her chin. He thought he saw a slight shiver and grabbed her fur before he approached her.

'Thanks,' she muttered as he draped it around her shoulders and tucked it about her.

'Nyra, have I done something to upset you?'

'Nope.'

'Okay.' He sat down next to her after adding some wood to the fire. He picked up another stick and started to poke at it, trying to get the air under it to bring it back to full flame again for her, before he chucked that on the fire as well.

'You know Leliana was saying that when we get to the circle, we should ask the First Enchanter if we can stay there for a couple of nights-'

'Did she now?'

'Nyra, please,' he pleaded. 'What's the matter?'

'Nothing.'

'Nyra, there is, I can tell. You're-'

'Fine!' She threw her hands up. 'You! _You're_ the problem!' She glared at him; the fire flickering caught the anger in her eyes, her hair and skin taking on an orangey-red glow. 'You _said_ you'd help me. You _said_ you could teach me to block them out – instead you wake me up, check I'm calm again and then go to bed! Then I'm stuck up all night, terrified out of my mind by what I've seen, what I'm going through – I don't do dreaming you _sodding nughumper_! Do you have _any _idea what it's like never seeing anything when you sleep, to suddenly have full blown nightmares that are so vivid, so realistic that I think I'm there, that I'm living through each terrifying moment? Do you?' she screamed. Her eyes were dark with that same fury he had seen in the Wilds and he shuddered.

'I… err…' He felt his cheeks burning as she shouted at him. He glanced around; Leliana had stopped stock still staring at the two of them. Morrigan had poked her head out of her tent and had an evil grin upon her lips. Only Sten seemed to be ignoring them.

'I didn't think so! And since that nutty-little-two-shoes,' she pointed to Leliana who gasped indignantly at the name, 'has come into the group, you've ignored the rest of us!'

'Thank goodness!' Morrigan called from her tent.

'Shut up, witch!' he shouted back instinctively. 'Nyra, please,' he begged. 'I didn't mean for that, if you let me explain-' Nyra suddenly stood up, the fur dropping to the floor. Her fists where clenched, her cheeks red, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she looked down at him.

'I know why, Alistair, like I said back in Lothering, if you fancy her so much, so be it – just don't put our group in jeopardy, that's all I ask.' She threw her hair over her shoulder and stormed off into the woods surrounding them without looking back. Alistair blinked and looked to Leliana who shook her head at him, her hands held up in a gesture of _I have no idea_.

'Well, go after her,' Sten's voice came from his tent.

Alistair quickly picked himself up and followed her tracks, thinking how unusual it was for her to be so reckless as to step into the trees with no armour or no weapons. For a few minutes he wandered around trying to see where she had stepped, which was hard as she was so light-footed and the trees overhead where in full bloom stopping the light of the full moon. When he did find her he stopped a few feet from where she was.

Sitting on a tree stump, her head in her hands, her face a myriad of emotions, she looked so lost and out of her depth, and he realised that in a way she was. New to the surface, alone without any friends or family for support, just as he was, and instead of sticking to his resolve of keeping her safe, training her and helping her in any way he could, he had tried to keep his distance because he felt embarrassed at his own weak thoughts.

He cursed himself for his stupidity.

'Nyra,' he spoke softly, not wanting to scare or anger her any more than he already had.

'Go away,' her voice was thick and heavy with misery. 'You've done enough already.'

'Nyra, I am so sorry,' he said, ignoring her plea. 'Please, hear me out.' He took a step forward, hesitating to see if she would tell him to go again, when she didn't he took a couple more. 'I really want to talk to you and try and fix this – I don't want to lose your friendship.' She snorted in disbelief.

'Truly, Nyra, I wasn't ignoring you, not really… I mean I knew that I wasn't doing my job,' he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he stood in front of her. How could he do this without embarrassing himself further? He probably wasn't going to be able to, he finally concluded.

'Nyra, I'm embarrassed as it is as to _why_ all this has occurred and now I'm just going to further humiliate myself in front of you, so if you'd just let me get all this out before you maim me or whatever I deserve, I'd appreciate it.' She didn't move, but looked up at him through her fringe, her dimpled lip pouting. He tried to give her a small smile, but she gave nothing away.

'Okay,' he took in a deep breath. 'Nyra, you know I was raised by the Chantry – since the age of ten – I've known nothing but the Maker's way; daily sermons, regular prayers, and even though I hadn't taken the vows of a Templar I was expected to live the life anyway. I lived in a Chantry where the only women I came in contact with were either the Revered Mother or the Sisters of the Cathedral. And now I'm travelling with three attractive women, one of whom barely covers her chest, and two who wear very short leather skirts… I'm having a very hard time stopping my mind wandering over things I'm not supposed to think about.' He felt his cheeks burning bright red. 'I was also embarrassed that you caught me in a weak moment staring at Morrigan's… bits. Leliana was a Sister, she talks about the Maker a lot and I just…' he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

'I'm sorry, regardless of my own weaknesses; I shouldn't have left you to deal with this on your own. I remember when my own nightmares started – I screamed like a little girl! Duncan thought I had someone in my room. Embarrassing isn't the word. Jaden – who joined the Wardens with me – barely noticed them, he would-'

'Wait,' she sat up straight and looked at him, incredulously. 'Are you saying that you're… that you've never…? Haven't…?'

'What? Had a good pair of shoes?' He tried to joke, frowning down at his shoes... 'Have I never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?' She looked up at him, the tinge of anger stirring in her eyes again.

'Nope,' he said quickly, 'I haven't had the _pleasure_… as I was saying, being raised in a Chantry is not exactly the life for rambunctious boys. They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women, such as yourself.' He blushed again. 'That's not all bad is it?'

She blinked at him, before looking him over; his long legs and tapered waist, strong chest and broad shoulders. She licked her lips as she took in his face, complete wonderment in her eyes as her gaze lingered on his lips, trailing up to his whisky coloured eyes and perfect hair. She shook her head slowly.

'No, no, not at all.' Her voice was husky, barely above a whisper. 'I just – have you _seen _you? How can… how can you be a…?'

His breath had caught in his throat as her eyes had wandered over him, drinking him in as if he were a cool goblet of water after being in a desert for a month. He cleared his throat and tried grinning, trying to control the wicked thoughts that where screaming for attention – and they weren't the only things trying to climb to attention.

'Are you trying to tell me I'm handsome?' He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to cover his discomfort.

'You know you're handsome, Alistair.' She patted the log next to her, inviting him to join her, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 'How old are you again?'

'Twenty and one on my next birth date.' _In for a bit, in for a sovereign, _he thought, swallowing. 'Tell me; have _you_ ever licked a lamppost in winter?'

Nyra scoffed at him, and he felt a deep disappointment sinking within him.

'Finding someone of the Dwarva at my age that hasn't would be a challenge.' She looked at him; she had no regret in her eyes and seemed to find him more the oddity if anything. 'Bed women, get them pregnant, and carry on the bloodline, that's our way.'

'So your people are not a… monogamist race?'

'We believe in marriage – we form alliances with other houses as much as you humans do, but no, most of the men do not practice monogamy.'

'The men?'

'Yes,' her voice took a hard edge to it. 'Our numbers dwindle so much each year that we encourage our men to seek out other women to bear their children as well as their wives. Women are expected to be faithful though. But none of the commoners are expected to remain… chaste? Before marriage; if we get pregnant out of… what is your word?'

'Wedlock?'

'That's the one; it doesn't matter as long as the father is of an equal or higher caste. Of course, the noble women do not share the same luxury. They are to remain pure until they are wed and only to another noble house. Whereas the noble men are able to bed as many noble-hunters – luxury whores – as they see fit before they wed, and even afterwards, with their wife's permission.'

'That… seems unfair.'

Nyra shrugged, putting her face back into her hands. 'Some men do not, they love their woman so much that they remain faithful – others don't. Neither is wrong.'

'And what happens to the children from the mistresses? The bastards?' he asked, wondering how his own life would have turned out if he had been born a dwarf.

'Depends on their sex. If they are a male, they belong to their father's caste. If they are a girl they belong to their mother's. If either are the favourable caste they are welcomed with open arms. Nobles even move the mothers of the children into their homes.'

_A prince then,_ he mused, wondering how his life might have been different had he been raised in Denerim with his father and brother.

'Alistair, I'm sorry I shouted at you. I should have spoken to you privately.' She looked at him again. 'But every time I tried, Leliana would appear, like tonight, when you were reading. I was going to come and talk, and as I walked over Leliana appeared.'

'Again, that's my fault. I guess I managed to isolate us both from the rest of you. She's a nice girl though, Nyra, you'd get on well with her if you give her a chance.' Nyra snorted at him. 'I'll tell you what; you make friends with Leliana, and I'll make friends with Sten-'

'And Morrigan.' Nyra raised her eyebrows to him, challenging him. 'Sten's easy to get on with – he likes fighting and he likes the dwarven caste system; be a straight talker with him and it's easy to get on his good side – Leliana and Morrigan are more complicated.' He sighed. 'And Morrigan's barely covered breasts will be as much a challenge for you as Leliana's preaching will be for me.'

'Okay, okay,' he relented and offered her his hand. She looked at it in confusion for a moment before sliding hers into his. He shook it firmly, and chuckled as her whole arm shook. 'No handshakes in Orzammar?' She shook her head.

'So,' she said. Alistair was grateful she wasn't heading back to camp, to the rest of them, right away. 'You said you went to the Chantry at ten – why? Where were you before then?'

'I was raised in Redcliff castle by Arl Eamon Guerrin until I was ten, then his wife had enough of me and shipped me off to the Chantry.'

'An Arl? That surprises me, with your table manners I'd have thought you'd have been raised by dogs or something.' She tried to smile, but he could see that she was still angry with him.

'Ah, I can't fool you – yes giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact.'

'I guess that would also explain the smell.'

'Oh, fair lady, you wound me!' he held an imaginary dagger to his heart, but dropped it when she turned away from him again. He leaned over and brushed her hair back so he could see her properly. Tears glistened in her eyes.

'Oh, Nyra,' his voice was gruff as he pulled her to him, stroking her hair back.

'I want to sleep,' she whispered. 'Just one night without the nightmares.'

'I promise you – I swear now to the Maker, I will help you to block them.'

He held her like that for a long time, staring at the darkness, stroking her hair and telling her how he wouldn't let her down again. Neither of them noticed a small vixen watching them from the undergrowth, licking its lips in satisfaction.

* * *

_Although I'm glad, so frikken glad, that this chapter is done, I'm thinking that it's a bit of a non-chapter too. Dammit. Oh well. The next one gets us back on track as they reach the Circle Tower :D_


	11. Chapter XI: Down at the Docks

_Yey! Back to Nyra's POV :D_

_Thanks to Jo for beta-reading for me! She's a total star - two chapters in one day after she came back from her Holidays! Fantastic!_

_As people have waited so long for these, I'm posting them close together, but I soon hope to go back to my one every five days or so. I'm finishing chapter 13 atm. As much as I always hate the fade dreams they're really hard to write when you're changing them (Nyra and Alistair's!) but that's getting ahead of ourselves, so lets get back to chapter 11!_

_Super thanks to all who read this, and mega love to those who review. Regardless you all rock! _

Chapter Eleven – Down at the Docks

'So really, nothing exciting actually happened on the way to the Circle of Magi,' Nyra explained, rubbing her eyes tiredly. 'We walked each day, set up camp each night; we all talked and got to know one another a little bit.' Nyra rested her head in Alistair's lap and settled down, yawning as her husband pulled the blanket around her tightly and stroked her long white hair.

'Nyra and I got to know one another a little better, without revealing our secrets still and all was well with us again.'

'I think,' Nyra said as she rolled on her side and looked at the Scholar. 'That nothing more than that happened because, although we were getting on with those we had formed tentative friendships with, we all still didn't know each other very well. When you're trying to get people to like you, you tend to be on your best behaviour.'

'Are you saying that camp wasn't always so easy?' Lowena asked as she scribbled something down. Alistair let out a bark of laughter.

'Hair pulling, name calling and things being thrown at one another were regular occurrences as we progressed on our travels,' Alistair told her.

'No, they were only regular when you and Morrigan travelled together,' Nyra giggled as she turned back over to look up at him. 'We made it to the docks by the Circle of Magi in fifteen days, but there were still plenty of obstacles in our path…'

o-O-o

As we approached the docks of Lake Calenhad, the tower loomed large above us. It's imposing structure reaching out into the night like an ice cold finger pointing towards the sky. I shivered in apprehension at the sight of it; when I had visited with Duncan on our way to Ostagar to heal Samuel's leg I had been left at the Inn, surprised, but happy, to see an old friend, Felsi, and hadn't paid the Tower much heed.

'Happy place isn't it,' Alistair muttered to me as we stopped before the dock.

'I didn't realise it before,' I whispered, looking towards Morrigan who didn't look too thrilled at its appearance. 'But it really is a prison, isn't it? Sitting in the middle of the lake, no escape from it even if they do get outside – I'm guessing that thing that humans do in water is not on the Magi Curriculum?'

'Swimming? No,' Alistair shook his head. 'We should find a ferryman at the bottom of the dock – he's got a place up there.'

'He stays here all the time?' I shook my head amazed at the idea that someone would shackle themselves to this place by choice.

'He's the only ferryman – he's probably paid handsomely. I doubt many would want the job,' Alistair echoed my thoughts.

We made our way down the wharf towards the lone man who appeared to be standing watch. I noted that his silhouette seemed awfully bulky for someone who was just a simple ferryman, it was like he wore armour or…

'Why is a Templar keeping watch on the dock?' Morrigan mused, missing a step. I noticed that she was actually edging nearer to Alistair the closer we got to the waterfront. Her voice had a slight tremor to it, if any of the others noticed they didn't say anything.

Sten, I observed, was looking anywhere but at the port and our destination, and almost tripped over a discarded barrel. He caught me looking at him as he righted himself and grunted in dismissal. I shrugged and focused back on the task at hand.

'Remember what we said, Alistair.' He nodded at me, eyes focused on his target.

'Good evening,' Alistair greeted the Templar as we reached the end of the jetty. 'I was looking for the ferryman.'

'I'm afraid that the tower is closed to visitors,' the Templar snapped arrogantly.

'Oh,' Alistair sounded disappointed and uncertain. He rubbed the back of his neck as Morrigan sighed in frustration, rolling her eyes, and Sten grumbled. I tugged on Alistair's hand; he leaned down so I could whisper into this ear.

'We're not visitors,' he said, although his voice wasn't as commanding or as forceful as I would have liked. 'We're Grey Wardens.'

'Pull the other one mate,' the Templar laughed. 'I'm not green around the ears you know.'

'But, we really are!' Alistair protested without thought.

'Prove it.' It was like children fighting. Again. Did Alistair instil this attitude in all he met?

'I've got these documents-'

'You know, I have documents, too. They say I'm the queen of Antiva. What do you think of that?' I half expected the Templar to stick his tongue out at Alistair. Alistair paused for a second in thought.

'Aren't queens female?' Alistair asked, sounding like he was really trying to catch the Templar out in his lie.

'Don't question royalty.' I heard Leliana snigger behind me, and I had to control the urge to smirk myself. 'Kill some Darkspawn. Come on; let's see some righteous Grey Wardening.' The Templar folded his arms and tapped his foot.'

'There's no Dark- Wait! This is official Grey Warden business; I don't have to prove anything to you!'

'So I'm not good enough for you? Fine. See if you get to the tower on your own.' I grabbed Alistair's hands as he made to shove the Templar off the edge of the pier and pulled him back down the jetty. I waved to the others to move back towards the inn.

'That snotty little… _git_,' he threw back over his shoulder as the other man waved at him, his face smug. It took all my strength to stop him from turning around and finishing what he had started.

'Oh, Alistair,' Leliana giggled, throwing her arm around him, helping me to steer him towards the tavern. 'I have never seen anything so funny – two grown Templars, arguing like children.'

'If that is how they act around one another,' Morrigan chimed in. ''Tis of some surprise to me that the Mages have yet to overthrow them.'

'I am _not_ a Templar! How many times do I have to say this?' Alistair threw his hands up in the air as we walked into the tavern. 'Almost a Templar. _Almost_. No vows taken. No oaths sworn. No lyrium sampled.'

'Okay, Alistair,' I tried to sooth him. 'We get the point. It was funny though.' I sniggered a little. He looked down at me, frowning. I smiled a beaming smile to him and fluttered my lashes sweetly. He smiled slightly as he sighed, shaking his head whilst pulling out a chair for me.

I sat down and motioned to the barkeep, ordering drinks for us all.

o-O-o

When we had settled ourselves in the pub with a drink or two, I took stock of our group. Alistair was enthralled in conversation with Leliana about the range of fine cheeses that Orlais produced. He was flabbergasted that there were nearly three hundred different varieties from the north of Orlais alone! I made a mental note that if we had to travel there for any reason then he was staying in the south. He'd come back popping out of his armour!

Sten was eyeing his mug of ale suspiciously, whilst simultaneously watching Bert as the dog snuffled around the table. The hound whined and plopped his head on the wooden block looking at the man with his huge black eyes. The Qunari grunted before pouring some of his ale on to a plate and pushing it towards the dog.

'If he's ill tonight, Sten,' I pointed my own mug at Bert, 'you're dealing with it.' The Qunari grunted again.

Morrigan was necking down goblets of wine as fast as the bartender could pour them. During our walk towards the tower Morrigan had started to withdraw; she stopped giving her opinion on matters, didn't argue as much when asked to do something and she stopped bickering with Alistair, much to his relief. He had been trying to get on with her, but she wasn't making it easy on him.

'Are you okay, Morrigan?' I asked quietly, not wanting the others to notice her discomfort.

'Of course, why would I not be fine? What would possibly be a cause of concern to me? 'Tis strange that you would ask – why do you ask?' she ushered out in one breath, followed by another large gulp of the purple liquid the barkeep poured. I watched him as he notched up our tab.

'Well, you've been very quiet on the way here, and we _are_ going to a place full of people who would love to get their hands on an apostate.' She looked at me through narrowed eyes before sighing and placing her goblet of wine down.

''Tis true, I do not relish the idea of a dozen or more of those fools,' she nodded at Alistair, 'watching my every move – or even knowing that I exist.' I allowed her comment to slide as Alistair hadn't heard – or if he had, he had ignored her too.

'If you promise not to run our tab up beyond a sovereign you could always stay here whilst Alistair and I go up to the tower.'

'I could?' Morrigan looked at me in surprise before schooling her features back to her impassive way. 'I mean, 'tis a fine idea – why would we all need to be present for you to call the Magi to arms?'

'Then it's settled, we'll try again in the morning. You can stay here and watch Bert and our possessions.' I smiled as I watched her shudder – she wasn't particularly fond of the hound since he had left her a present, a dead bird, in her pack. 'Alistair and I will go up to the tower and get their support; it shouldn't take long – a couple of hours perhaps.'

Morrigan smiled and left the table looking like a great weight had been relieved from her shoulders as she made her way over to the bar.

I watched as Sten put down his own mug of ale and nodded in confirmation of some silent discussion he had been having with himself. He stood and left the tavern without a word to anyone. Seeing Alistair and Leliana in such deep conversation, probably about the Maker and Andraste again – there where an awful lot of women in the bar – I moved to the door of the inn and watched as the Qunari approached the lakeside and looked around; every so often he would peer up at the tower, take a step or two in a different direction and look again. As he started up the hill, back towards the outskirt of the area, I left the pub, wrapped in the shadows that the darkness brought and followed him.

He was muttering as he walked and for once looked completely unsure of his steps, of his direction, or his place, not the Sten I had grown accustomed too.

'_Vashedan!' _he hissed after about twenty minutes of his mysterious walk.

'Are you okay, Sten?' I asked carefully stepping out of the shadows. Although I got on with him, he could change his mood and view of you in a second. 'You seem a little disturbed by the area.' He seemed unperturbed by my following him, which was usual for him.

'I have been here before.'

'Oh?'

'When I first came to your lands-'

'Human lands, Sten, they are not mine.'

'I apologise. When I first came to _this _land, I came with seven of the Beresaad – my brothers. We sought answers about the Blight.'

'You had heard of it all the way up in the north? Even this land is divided on whether it is a true Blight or not.'

'They are fools. As were we. We made it across the Ferelden countryside without incident, seeing nothing of the threat we were sent to observe, until we camped here.' He waved his arm around at the lake. 'Or somewhere around here. They came from everywhere – the earth beneath our feet, the air above; our own shadows harboured the Darkspawn.'

'Sounds like Ostagar.' I drew my blades, my eyes quickly checking over the landscape. If that happened again, I wanted to be prepared.

'I heard stories of what happened at this Ostagar – your kith stood strong when others were weak and fled in fear.' Sten looked like he approved. 'I do not know how long I lay on the battlefield amongst the dead, my brothers, nor do I know how the farmers found me.

'I only know that when I woke up, I was in a strange house with people I did not know and my sword was gone from my hand. I searched for it and when that failed, I asked the people what had become of it. They said they found me with nothing and I…' he said nothing as he looked into the forest that surrounded the lake, trying to see something that was no longer there.

'Did you kill them, Sten?' I asked quietly. 'Is that why you were in the cage?'

'Yes.' He bit out. 'I knew that they didn't have the blade, they had no reason to lie and I… panicked.'

'I… I don't think I understand – this was over a sword?'

'That sword was made for my hand alone. It is my Asala, my… what is your word? Soul? I have carried it since the day I was set into the Beresaad. I was to die wielding it.' He looked forlorn, his eyes empty and resigned to his fate. 'Even if I could cross the world again, alone and unarmed, I would be slain on sight by the Antaam. They would see me as a deserter – soulless.'

'Perhaps, we could search for your… Asala?' I offered gently as I started looking around my feet, not actually knowing where to begin.

'That, Kabethari, is what I am doing – I just do not know where we fought… it appears different in this light. _Vashedan_.'

'I will help you, Sten,' I thought of my own dragonbone blade left behind in Orzammar. 'I know what it feels like to have a blade that feels a part of you stolen from you grasp.'

'It would be point- I… Thank you, Ka- Warden.'

We looked for the sword, trying to piece together where Sten and his brothers had camped that night, weeks ago. Finally we stumbled across a scavenger who mentioned he had only heard of the site through another man on his way to Orzammar, who had a lot of strange and very large weaponry in his cart. I promised Sten that Orzammar was on our list of places to go – we'd continue the hunt, but it may take some time. From the look in his eyes I didn't think he believed me, but he thanked me anyway.

When we returned to the inn I sidled up to the bar to avoid the others, trying to lose myself amidst the other patrons. I was happy up to hear that they served the ale of the Dwarva and added it to my tab with the barkeep. Nursing a tankard of the brew I pondered my current situation.

It had been a strange two weeks since we had left Lothering. Whilst Alistair had been avoiding me I had found Morrigan and Sten unexpectedly welcoming to me and I actually enjoyed their company; they were forthright with their thoughts, blunt and always to the point. It was so refreshing after everyone had tiptoed around me as Orzammar's Princess.

Morrigan liked silence and I had needed time to think about things past, present and future; so time with Morrigan was never time wasted, as clarity came with the hours I spent in her little area of the camp, whether through the silence or the logic of her point of view – even if I didn't always agree with it, it gave me a different perspective.

I had kept my word to Alistair and had tried to speak to Leliana. From her words I suspected she was more than what she made out to be. Travelling around the world did not necessarily mean that you would pick up the skills she had, and she certainly hadn't learnt them as a Cloister Sister. I also suspected that, although her firm belief in the Maker and her vision to join us was not a ruse on her part, she was not as simple as she made out to be.

Then there was Sten. After Alistair, I found Sten the easiest to speak to. Sten liked fighting, I liked fighting and so we spoke about fighting. I believed in a caste system as did the Qunari to some extent; there were some differences of opinion in regard to the sexes and their abilities, and Sten was very unbending in his beliefs, as I was, but it was interesting to see similarities in our cultures. I liked that there was no front with him. He spoke plainly and honestly. After the back door politics of Orzammar it was a very nice change. However, after this evening I understood a little more about him; in his own way, he, too, was now exiled from his home. I looked at the group again; Alistair, Sten and I were all homeless – none of us knew where we belonged.

'I am sorry to disrupt your solitude,' Morrigan's voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned, giving her a slight smile, raising my mug to her. She nodded in acknowledgement. 'I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty of arranging some accommodation for us this eve. I thought that spending tonight in a tent would be more miserable knowing that there were rooms in here.'

The thought of sleeping in a bed again after our time on the road appealed to my body. 'I'd agree.'

'Very good. Unfortunately there are only three rooms, and thus, some of us will have to share.' I shrugged my shoulders and sipped at my ale, silently hoping I'd get the room to myself. _Although anyone but Leliana_, I thought, _I can cope with._

'Sten requires his own room as he is too… large for a single bed. I would share with him, but alas he has turned me down.' Her forehead wrinkled a little in a frown at the thought of a man possibly turning down her company for a night.

'Hence I will share with our Cloister Sister, and you shall share with Alistair.' I made to speak, but she carried on. 'Although you've been quieter since the ignorant- Alistair,' she corrected herself at my raised eyebrow, 'has finally begun to shoulder his responsibilities, if you do happen to have a nightmare tonight, he will be close at hand – I do not wish to be tossed out in the dead of the night.'

'Ah.' She handed me the key to our room.

'Good night, Nyra.'

'Night, Morrigan,' I called as I watched her walk away towards the stairs of the tavern and to her room.

Although Alistair had been helping me to quell the nightmares, they still continued to plague me. The Fade scared me more than anything I had ever come across before. I felt weak and helpless; there was nothing I could do when I heard their voices. When Morrigan was trying to help me she told me that I wasn't actually entering the Fade, but I was connecting with the Darkspawn and the Archdemon. They could not see me, they didn't know I was there and, in actuality, I wasn't there, I was safe in my own tent away from them all. But still it did not help. Still I felt that my spirit was being whisked away to somewhere I could not control and still the terror gripped me.

Alistair had tried to teach me the method he had been shown to close my mind off to the Darkspawn, Sten had tried to show me Qun meditation techniques and Leliana had tried to relax my body with massage – although my apprehension at such contact from another woman did little to help. But still the nightmares haunted me.

I sighed as the barman filled up my tankard again.

'So… you're female, Leliana, right?' Alistair's voice interrupted my thoughts, he and Leliana stood at the bar just a few patrons away. I drained my tankard quickly and tapped it again for the barman to refill, and hoped that the pair wouldn't notice me in the dim light.

'I am? That's news. When did that happen?' I smirked at Leliana's light response.

'I just wanted some advice. What should I do if… If I think a woman is special and-'

'You want to woo her? Here's a good tip: you shouldn't question her about her female-ness.'

'All right, yes. Good point.' I nearly dropped my tankard. Although I had accused him of fancying the red-head on more than one occasion, to hear them actually flirting was surprising, and a little upsetting for some reason. I had wanted him to stop ignoring me to help me learn about how to be a Warden, to continue the friendship we had begun during our time at the witches' home and to ensure that we were united in stopping the blight… right?

'Why do you ask?' Leliana's voice interrupted my thoughts again. 'Are you afraid things will not proceed naturally?'

_Please don't proceed _naturally_ into our room!_

'Why would they? Especially when I do things like ask women if they're female.'

'It adds to your charm, Alistair. You are a little awkward. It is endearing.'

_It really is, _I thought with a small smile. _And refreshing._ I brought my drink back up to my lips, thinking about what Leliana had said.

I had never known any man like my fellow Warden. When he wasn't ignoring me he was sweet and considerate, he did things, not because I asked or expected them to be done, but because he wanted to, anticipating nothing in return. In Lothering I had thought that perhaps there was more behind his motivations, just as there always was from everyone in Orzammar. I had realised, however, that it was just him being him, and I liked him.

_It, I_ corrected myself. _ I like _it_, not _him_. Not that way, anyway. Of course I _like_ him, just not like-like him._

I groaned, realising I was arguing with myself – a sure sign I had had enough to drink – and pushed my mug back. Tossing a sovereign to the bar tender, I left the bar and them to their flirtations.

o-O-o

_What is the point, _my mind growled, _of having a fire going if you leave the window open? _I stood on the bed to close one window and draw the curtains before I stomped across the room to close the second, only to find I was too short to reach the handle and there was nothing for me to stand on. I kicked the wall in frustration and glared as a small breeze blew through, mocking me. I shivered as the wind nipped at me through my thin shirt and britches and hugged myself as I looked at the Tower again and thought about the poor Magi trapped within its walls.

Alistair's words to me about their Harrowing procedure hit too close to home. Like them I had been condemned without proof of my crime, but at least I had been given a second chance. What would have happened if Duncan had not chosen to come to Orzammar? When I had spoken to him he had mentioned that he'd had thoughts of visiting a number of other places to seek Grey Warden recruits, but he had needed to confirm the lack of Darkspawn in the Deep Roads. Confirmation of the Blight was more important than one more recruit I surmised.

Fate was a twisted mistress, I thought. He had gone to Orzammar to confirm a Blight and to garner support, and instead he had ended up with a recruit – one who was now leading a rabble across a country torn by the very question he had sought the answer to. I snorted as I thought about the sheer luck of it – imagine someone who had no experience of battle or command leading this rag-tag group, trying to gain allies and fight this Blight – I was unsure if _I_ could even do it.

I leant on the window sill, my chin in the palm of my hand as I looked across the land I was now a part of. Would things have been different if I had come here with Cailan? A large lump of emotion clawed at my chest at the thought of my friend falling in battle. If I had left with him, he said he would have made me advisor over his military; would he have listened to me about waiting for more reinforcements? Would I have made a difference in calling the Dwarva to arms? Would Teyrn Loghain have respected me enough to understand that this wasn't about Orlais invading? Would I have even believed this to be a Blight? There were just so many unanswerable questions, and as much as I wanted to be able to answer them, the fact remained that Cailan was dead.

Cailan was dead, Gorim was in Denerim possibly assuming _me_ dead and I was stuck with a horny almost-Templar, an air-head ex-Cloister Sister, a bitch of a witch and a soulless giant, whilst trying to save the world. _This can't be real_, I thought. _I'll wake up in a moment and laugh about this with Gorim when he comes to collect me for practice. Oh Gorim, where are you? I need you by my side, guiding me, with your calming words and–_

'You decent?' Alistair's voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see his head peeking around the door, his eyes tightly closed.

'Yes.' I smiled, rolling my eyes.

'Ah well,' he sighed as he opened his. 'Can't blame a Chantry boy for trying to– Are you okay?' He stepped into the room quickly, shutting the door behind him and stepping towards me.

I blinked for a moment and felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. I wiped at them quickly, blinking rapidly to ensure no others would come. 'Yes!' I answered; my voice a little too high. 'I'm fine, thank you though.' He stopped in the middle of the room as he looked at me, unconvinced. 'I was just thinking of my family and friends.' I tried to smile.

'Oh.'

'I wanted to close the window – but I'm too small to reach.'

I moved to the beds as he went to the window to close it for me. The room was L-shaped and small, the beds shoved into the far end of the L, the fire at the bottom. I squeezed into the gap between the beds and thought that if they were a few inches bigger they'd be touching. I shook my head, wondering if Alistair was reciting the Chant of Light again as he realised how cosy our room was.

'It's bloody cold up here on the surface,' I told him as I climbed on the bed and tried to settle under the thin blankets. 'Mind checking the cupboard for another blanket please? Honestly, I have no idea how you Surfacers cope with only fires.'

'It's Solace!' his voice was muffled as he called back, as if he was _inside_ the cupboard. 'You can't be _that_ cold.'

'Orzammar is heated by a giant lava pit,' I called back.

'Point taken.' He came back around the corner unfolding a blanket, and threw it over me.

'Thanks.'

He sat on the end of the other bed and kicked off his boots before starting to unbuckle his breastplate. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter; he looked at me sheepishly.

'You explain to the others, especially Morrigan, who arranged the rooms for us, why we got kicked out.' I muttered as I rolled over in my bed, to face the wall, giving him some privacy to change.

'I… Right.'

I heard him divesting the rest of his armour and clothes before the sound of splashing came from the other end of the room as he used the water in the wash bowl to rid himself of the last two days travel on his skin.

'Alistair, can I ask you a question?'

'Ask away.' I peeked over the covers to take a look at him.

His back was broad, his muscles well defined, he had definitely been raised with a sword and a shield on his arm. His waist was slender and his behind and thighs…

'Nyra!' his voice admonished me as his head whipped around quickly. I felt myself blushing and muttering apologises, cursing myself for forgetting I was supposed to be speaking. He shook his head as I buried myself under the covers again.

'You said you were raised by an Arl; are you a noble then?' I heard the rustling of more clothes and assumed he was getting into his clean sleep-wear.

'No, I'm a bastard, not the nasty kind but the father-less kind.' His voice was getting nearer and I heard the bed next to me give way to his weight. 'My father was a soldier who got my mother pregnant – a serving girl at Arl Eamon's castle. She promised the Arl she would give me to the Chantry if she could continue to serve. My father was dismissed from the Arl's forces and my mother was given sanctuary. But she died during my birth – the Arl hadn't been alerted to her condition and it was too late to send for a healer. He felt so guilty he kept me. He married a young woman a few years later and she wasn't happy about the situation – rumours are always rife when there's a bastard born. Even though the staff knew who my father was, they whispered at the possibility of my being the Arl's son. The new Arlessa didn't like the rumours and eventually packed me off to the Chantry.'

His tale sounded rehearsed, I thought as I rolled onto my back and he blew out the candle; but the day had been long and my eyes struggled to stay open; the promise of sleep was finally welcoming…

o-O-o

_The Genlock ran down the street sniffing the air, it could feel it, _taste_ it already. The monster licked its lips as it turned another corner and ran along the street – it had to get there before anyone else, it was to be his and his alone. _

_The buildings burned around him, tingeing the sky red high above them, as the fleeing humans and elves screamed and ran in all directions. But even the stench of the smoke, of the burning flesh of those trapped within could not overpower the smell of it. It was so fresh, so new._

_A woman ran into a path as she fled from a building screaming something in the human's tongue, but one of his brothers chased her down, grabbing her roughly and punching her hard before grabbing her hair and dragging her off. _

_He was close, he knew it… then he heard it. _

_He pushed open the door and smiled, his razor sharp teeth glittering in the fire that was already eating at the floor above them. He had to be quick if he wanted it to himself, but he'd still enjoy it, he'd still savour it._

_Stepping over the bleeding women on the floor, who gargled on her own blood in protest of his presence, he smiled his toothy grin as the babe in the basket cried out. _

_He liked it when they were noisy._

o-O-o

'NO!' I woke up screaming. 'No, no!' My arms reached out in protest as I bolted upright in my bed.

'Nyra, it's okay.' Alistair was already at my side, sitting on my bed, waiting for me to wake up. Normally I wouldn't have questioned that, he always took first watch, but tonight we slept inside, there was no watch to take – why was he awake? And then the memory of the nightmare flew through my mind.

'Oh, no,' I whispered as my hand flew to my mouth. 'Alistair, it was horrible.'

'I know,' his voice just a whisper too. 'I saw it also.'

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. He hadn't shared any of the dreams I had experienced before tonight, why was now different?

'Lothering. I think- I think it's gone.' He shook his head sadly. In the light of the dying embers of the fire, I saw how empty he looked and wondered if that's how I looked each night after he woke me.

'There was a baby…' I said without thinking. 'It… I _saw _what it did…' my voice cracked and I heard him curse under his breath. His strong arms pulled me to him into a comforting hug.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I tried to wake up before he found it. I tried to wake you; I didn't want you to see _that_…'

'You knew that they do that?' I felt him nod against the top of my head as his arms tightened around me, and it was then that I realised that he was shaking. Slowly I slipped my arms around his waist, slowly rubbing his back, trying to calm him.

'The other Wardens and Duncan told me what they had seen and what had been passed down to them through the ages. I hadn't seen it myself.' He sighed. 'No one knows why they search for them in particular. I've heard they all like them, but that Genlocks are particularly sensitive to them.'

I closed my eyes tightly. I had a strong suspicion that I knew _why_; an unspoken practice within Orzammar was probably what had caused it, and I understood instantly why no other Warden from the Dwarva had given them the answer. How would a Surfacer understand…? How would _Alistair_ look at me if I told him…?

'How long do we have?' I whispered against his warm bare chest.

'I don't know. It took them months to amass and move across the Wilds,' he murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my ear, I shivered as his big hand unconsciously stroked my hip. 'We cut a good chunk of them down at Ostagar – they might have hit Lothering quickly to replenish their numbers.' He shuddered again. I gently pulled back to look him in the eye.

'We'll do this, Alistair.' I took his both his hands in mine and squeezed them tightly. 'Together we'll do this, I promise – unless I fall to them.' I heard him take in a sharp breath. 'And if I do, make sure you pick me up so we can carry on.' I tried smiling at him.

His hand reached up to cup my face, his thumb stroked my cheek. For a second I thought I saw the same look in his eyes as the first night I had woken up screaming and thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he dropped his hand, sighed and stood up.

'Nyra, I don't know how we're going to do this,' he confessed, running his hands through his hair as he paced the floor. 'I can't get past a lone Templar, what chance do I have with the real people in power?' He turned and looked at me; I imagined his eyes pleading with me, telling me to fix it, asking me to take the lead he so desperately wanted to shy away from.

'I'll sort it,' I sighed. 'I promise.' Inside I wondered just how many of these promises I could really keep.

I heard him release his own breath and watched the outline of his shoulders slumping in relief. He stood there for a moment before moving back to his bed. Now that his anguish was dealt with, I guess that he could go back to sleep.

'Alistair?' I lowered my voice back to a whisper.

'Something you desire?'

_Yes,_ I thought, _to be back in Orzammar as its princess and with no concern for what was happening up here, rejoicing in the lack of Darkspawn in the tunnels, and making plans to take it back- _

'Nyra?'

'Will you hold me?' I whispered, surprised at myself. 'Just until I fall sleep. Please?'

'Nyra, I-'

'What I just saw, Alistair no one should ever even contemplate – I witnessed the worst of death, and I have seen much in my time. I need to feel life. I am not going to jump your bones, your virtue is safe.'

'Grey Warden's honour?' he asked, but I could already hear him lifting up his blankets and sitting up.

'Grey Warden's honour,' I promised as I felt my own blankets lift and his long, strong body climbed in next to me.

He wrapped his arms around me, as stiff as a board as I snuggled against him. I surmised he probably wouldn't sleep with me so close, but I didn't care. His heart beating against my cheek, the heat of his body and the strength in his arms all reminded me of life and what we were fighting to preserve.

For the first time in over two weeks, I had a perfect, dreamless sleep.

* * *

_Solace is the seventh month of the Thedas Calendar. The Dragon Age Universe uses different months than our own, with Seasons + New Year's (I think that's what Annum means) and I've listed them below with what I think is the equivalent month. _

_As Ferelden is based on medieval England (yey!) I will be dictating the weather that they will have as they go around by the weather we have here in England. If it seems odd that we have blazing sunshine in spring and then floods in the middle of summer, that's true England for you!_

_The DA months from DA Wiki:_

_**Months:**_

_**First Month (Jan): Wintermarch **_

_**Second Month (Feb): Guardian **_

_**Third Month (March): Drakonis **_

_**Fourth Month (April): Cloudreach **_

_**Fifth Month (May): Bloomingtide **_

_**Sixth Month (June): Justinian **_

_**Seventh Month (July): Solace **_

_**Eighth Month (Aug): August (guessing a writer ran out of ideas lol) **_

_**Ninth Month (Sept): Kingsway **_

_**Tenth Month (Oct): Harvestmere **_

_**Eleventh Month (Nov): Firstfall **_

_**Twelfth Month (Dec): Haring**_

_**Annums:**_

_**First Day – appears to be New Years, the first day of the new year**_

_**Wintersend – Beginning of Spring**_

_**Summerday – Beginning of Summer**_

_**Funalis – Beginning of Autumn**_

_**Satinalia – Beginning of Winter**_


	12. Chapter XII: Welcome to Hell

_Well Chapters 9 – 11 are not my favourite, although 11 does start to get us back to the story. Chapter 12 however is totally getting back into the swing of things! The next few chapters are all from Nyra's POV which is what I feel the most comfortable writing. Hooray!_

_Thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, favourites or adds me to their alerts! And to Jo for beta-reading it for me :D_

* * *

Chapter Twelve – Welcome to Hell

'Alistair you look awful,' Leliana told him as she sat down at the table with her bowl of porridge, a frown creasing her brow.

'Thanks,' he grunted. Morrigan smirked as I took a seat next to the almost-Templar, and commented on how well I looked.

'Truly, Nyra, 'tis lovely to see you so full of energy. You must have slept exceptionally well; I wonder why that could be?' Alistair flashed the witch a glance, his cheeks burning bright red, before he finished his porridge and stood up, leaving the tavern. I heard Bert bark happily in greeting his friend.

'Did you finally sleep last night, Warden?' Leliana asked me.

'Some.' I was not about to tell them that it was only the case _after_ I snuggled up to Alistair's half naked body. My cheeks flushed a little as I thought about the smoothness of his chest against my cheek and the hardness of his stomach beneath my hand. I cleared my throat as Morrigan looked at me curiously.

'We both dreamt last night – Lothering has fallen we believe.' Morrigan's eyes widened momentarily in surprise, whilst Leliana's mouth hung open.

'But… the Sisters, the Reverend Mother,' she whispered, a tremor in her voice. 'Do you think… do you think that they got out?'

'I don't know.' I shook my head. 'I told them to leave, to get as many out as they could, but some people will not give up their home. The Dwarva are such people and I think some humans are too.'

The young woman bowed her head for a moment in prayer.

'Umm…' I looked at Morrigan for help. She looked as uncomfortable as I did. 'Do you want me to go and get Alistair?' I asked.

'_I_ will sit with you,' Morrigan offered quickly, surprising the both of us. 'We will toast to them.' She snapped her fingers and the barkeep hurried over with a jug of wine, his eyes lingering on Morrigan nervously. I raised my eyebrow at her. 'You said I had a sovereign to spend – I intend to do so. Who knows when I might get the opportunity again.'

I chuckled, shaking my head as she tipped her goblet at Leliana who seemed completely floored by the witch's behaviour, but reached for a cup all the same. I left them sipping wine, discussing… _things_, to go and collect Alistair.

_Quicker we get over there, the quicker we get back, the less damage those two do to our purse strings._

I found my fellow Warden sitting near the stable rubbing Bert's belly. The dog had his eyes closed and his tongue lolled to one side; it amazed me how something as simple as a belly rub could make someone so blissful.

'Are you ready?' I asked Alistair, who looked up at me as I approached. His hand stopped with a final pat and he stood to meet me, nodding his confirmation.

Bert whined and rolled over to look at who had ruined his fun. He sat up as he saw me, wagging his stumpy little tale against the dirt. 'Be a good boy for Leliana and Morrigan – Leliana will feed you snacks if you're good, Morrigan might set your tail on fire if you're not.' I warned the hound who lay back down and covered his snout with his paws, his tiny tail dipping as low as it could. I chuckled and bent over to scratch behind his ear before returning to Alistair.

'Whatever I do when we get to that young man, I don't want any comments. Okay?' I asked as I slid my dagger from its holding.

'What are you going to do?' he asked frowning.

'I'm going to do what you can't.' And with that I fell into the shadows.

'Seriously,' Alistair asked the air around him. 'How _do_ you do that?'

o-O-o

The templar rubbed his swollen jaw as Alistair stepped into the boat and turned around to offer me his hand as he helped me into the vessel. I sat down as a large shadow fell over me.

'You want to come with us, Sten?' I asked as I looked up, squinting against the morning sun. The Qunari said nothing as he stepped into the boat, and sat at the front, staring stoically towards the Tower. I shrugged at Alistair and then nodded to the bruised Templar to begin our journey.

The trip across the lake was uneventful except for bickering between Alistair and the Templar that Sten quickly put a halt to.

'This isn't right,' Alistair mused as he lifted me from the boat, a slightly more dignified way for me to alight than scrambling up on the dock. 'There should be guards posted about the area, just in case a mage escapes.' We looked around at the eerily quiet island; there was no sign of life, no bird song or animal noise. Even the wind didn't seem to rustle the leaves today. I looked at our escort, who looked around with a frown on his face, clearly unsettled by the lack of activity. He turned the boat around quickly, muttering under his breath about duty and pay, and made back to the shore across the lake.

'Lead on,' I directed Alistair who took us up towards the tower and the big heavy doors that would lead to its interior. Had I never seen the doors of Orzammar I might have been impressed with their size. I looked at Alistair to comment, but his eyes were steadfast, his mouth grim as we approached the lone Templar guarding them. He let us in without question, obviously under the impression that we were the visitors the dock-Templar had told us the Knight-Commander was expecting.

We walked into bedlam.

Templars were lying around the room in different states of injury, some Magi were being held in a far corner by Templars who looked as if they wished to kill them, whilst a tall formidable man stood in the centre of the room barking out orders. His eyes turned to us the moment we stepped through the door.

'Thank the Maker,' he breathed and stepped forward only to stop as his gaze fell on Alistair. The Knight-Commander's eyes hardened and his mouth turned into a sneer. 'What the bloody hell do you think _you're_ doing back here?' he snapped, his cheeks turning red. 'I thought I told Carroll no one but the Denerim messenger was to be brought across.'

'Andraste's holy knickers,' Alistair whispered behind me. 'Afraid I'm no good representing here after all – I didn't think he'd recognise me.' I sighed heavily before stepping forward and bowing to the older Templar, who didn't pay me any heed.

'I told you I never wanted to see you in my tower again,' the Commander snapped at Alistair. 'After what you did-'

'She didn't deserve to die just because of your time limit.' Alistair's voice was low as he tried to control his temper. I had yet to see him become angered, and felt that there was a lot simmering under than gentle and humorous demeanour of his.

'It is not _my_ time limit-'

'Gentleman,' I interrupted. 'We are not here to solve past disputes, or to even discuss them, that is not the way of the Grey Wardens.'

'So you are a Grey Warden then,' the Commander threw his words at us like they were dirty. 'I had heard the rumour…'

'Knight-Commander,' I tried again. 'We are here to speak to the First Enchanter; however, it seems that you are rather busy. Would you mind explaining what is going on here?'

The Knight-Commander narrowed his eyes at me, calculating what I wanted. 'The tower,' he measured his words, 'is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls; attacking Templars and mages alike. I realised we could not defeat them and told my men to flee.'

'This is why we cut the tongues from the Magi in Par Vollen.' Sten shook his head disapprovingly.

'I will admit to agreeing with your companion. Maker knows the Qunari would not have gotten themselves into this position.'

'I thought the Templars were supposed to stop these things happening?' I mused aloud, looking pointedly at the Knight-Commander.

'My men did what they could, but it wasn't enough.' He looked away from me towards those injured Templars. 'They took us by surprise. We were prepared for one or two abominations – not the horde that fell upon us.'

'Then that was your undoing.' It was my turn to agree with Sten. 'You lock them all up together in one building – you are inviting evil into the tower.'

'Are these the only survivors from the circle?' I asked nodding towards the small group of mages. I saw that they were just boys and girls in their youth, no one to uphold the treaty.

'Yes, they were in the apprentice quarters when we fled, they ran with us.' The Knight-Commander finally looked at the mages that were being held.

'What is your plan?'

'I would destroy the tower, raze it to the ground, but I cannot risk any more of my men. The doors remain shut and will protect us… for now. I have sent word to Denerim calling for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment.'

'What's that?' I hissed out of the corner of my mouth to Alistair.

'Basically – he gets to kill them all and destroy the tower. But not without the Grand Cleric's say so,' Alistair whispered back. 'However, the Magi are probably already dead. Any abominations remaining in there must be dealt with.'

'Some must still live though,' I pondered aloud looking at the large doors that led further into the building; the Templars stood guarding it, waiting for them to crash open at any moment.

'If they're still alive, the Maker Himself has shielded them,' the Knight-Commander interrupted us.

'No thanks to you,' I sneered.

'What was I supposed to do?' he asked me helplessly, his shoulders finally sagging, his hands out splayed. 'Leave the doors open as the abominations poured out – I still have men in there too!'

'He's… he's right.' Alistair's voice was filled with hopelessness. 'All the Circles have doors like these to prevent abominations from… getting loose.'

'At least they had some foresight to potential problems they have created.' Sten sniffed, still looking down his nose at the Knight-Commander, who shifted uncomfortably under the Qunari's gaze.

'Fine.' I threw up my hands, knowing that the only way I was going to get the assistance of the Magi was to sort out the problem myself. 'I give in; I'll do what you can't.' The Commander gaped at me. 'But, if I find people alive and uncorrupted, I'm bringing them out.'

'I…I will only believe that it is over if the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen… then the circle is lost and must be destroyed.' The Commander stood to attention. 'Once you cross the threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe.'

'Great doors,' I scoffed as we approached said doors, the Templars on guard scurried around us, removing the heavy-looking steel bar that stopped the doors opening out towards us. 'They should see the Orzammar doors I was telling you about.' Alistair smiled weakly at me.

'I hope you know what you're doing.'

I rolled my shoulders and cricked my neck before nodding to the guards to open the door as I drew my blades.

'Welcome to hell.' One of them saluted us as we entered the long dark corridor. 'May the Maker watch over you.'

'May he watch over us all,' Alistair returned.

_And may the Ancestors embrace me should I fall, _I thought, as the doors closed behind us with a resonating bang.

This time, however, my world didn't end.

o-O-o

No candles flickered to light the dark corridor; the rooms to the right of us were all shrouded in darkness too, urging us to stay close to the left wall. The little light that did enter the long corridor came from the other end of the tunnel, a sliver of white-blue. My heart pounded in anticipation as we crept down the long curving corridor towards it.

'Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea,' Alistair muttered quietly as we began our journey towards the door. A scream from further down the corridor, from somewhere behind the door, put a shiver through me and caused us to hesitate in our step.

'Don't worry, Alistair,' I tried to sound comforting. 'I've been down the Deep Roads many times, there is just as little light down there as there is here.'

'Yes, because the _darkness_ is what's worrying me.'

'Stop your complaining,' Sten snapped. 'Are you a warrior or a woman?'

'_Hey_!' both Alistair and I responded, we looked at one another in the dim light and a soft chuckle escaped us. The tension within us eased and I nodded at him; he took a deep steadying breath.

'Okay,' his voice sounded stronger. 'I'm ready.' He stepped forward his shield raised, and I moved slightly behind him. Sten stood at the back, his broadsword clasped tightly in his mighty hands. Just the three of us against I-don't-know-what lay ahead, but between these two powerful men I felt safe, that no harm would come to me, and I knew that I would do all that I could to protect them. They were now my army, my people, my home, and I was theirs.

'Ready?' Alistair asked us as we approached the slightly ajar door. Sten grunted his confirmation.

'Whenever you are, Alistair,' I told him as I pulled the shadows around me and slunk further into the darkness. He took another deep breath before he raised his foot and kicked the door open, jumping into the room with his shield held high and his sword posed above it. A number of screams ensued at the sudden entrance as Sten roared and charged in behind him.

A group of children were huddled in the corner nearest the door protected by a mage, whilst two more mages stood in front of an opening covered by a film of magical light on the far side of the room. The two holding the film in place turned to face us, stunned by the sudden interruption.

'Stop right there!' the grey-haired mage commanded. 'Take another step, and I swear I will strike you down where you stand!' I materialised from the shadows and gently pushed Alistair's and Sten's weapons downward.

'These are not our enemies,' I said to them. I stepped forward and bowed to the grey-haired mage. 'Atrast Vala, Mage. I am Nyra, the Grey Warden.'

'I am Wynne, Senior Enchanter of the Circle. These children,' she waved at the cowering children, 'are under my protection. Have the Templars opened the doors?'

'No – they're waiting for reinforcements from Denerim and for the Right of Annulment.'

'So they sent for it then, curse them.' She shook her head in disbelief. 'So Greagoir thinks the Circle is beyond hope, he probably presumes we are all dead. They… abandoned us… but we've survived. However, if they invoke the Right we will not…'

'We're not here to help them with that,' Alistair spoke up, stepping forward. 'We're here to ensure we save whomever we can… Right?' He looked at me, a little unsure for a moment. I smiled at him warmly and nodded my head.

'If you're here to kill the abominations then let me help you.' The elderly mage looked at me, standing tall.

'You?' I asked surprised. 'You're a little old aren't you?'

'Nyra!' Alistair admonished me. I looked at him startled and then realised that I had voiced my thoughts. In Orzammar Gorim would have covered for me, I suddenly felt very vulnerable.

'Sorry,' I muttered. 'Forgive me, Madam Mage, I forget myself sometimes.' I bowed to her in apology. 'Your years bring you wisdom and experience and are there for people like myself to learn from.' Alistair looked at me in surprise, even Wynne looked impressed. It wasn't my first apology.

'It is okay, I have had worst insults thrown at me. But I will remind you, I have escaped the abominations here, I have erected this barrier over the door leading to the rest of the tower, so nothing from inside could attack the children; I think that I will be able to keep up with you all, if that's what you are worried about.' I bit my lip and said nothing. 'Once Greagoir sees that the tower is safe, I trust that he will tell his men to back down. He is not unreasonable.'

'Greagoir will only accept the first enchanters say so,' Alistair told her. 'He will not open the doors otherwise.'

'Then our path is laid out before us; we must save Irving.'

'Will the children be safe here?' Sten asked. I looked over at him surprised, but he said no more.

'Petra and Kinnon will watch them. If we slay all the fiends we encounter on the way, none will get by to threaten them.' Sten nodded and moved forward to join us again.

'Then if you are ready, let us go and end this,' I said taking a deep breath as she positioned herself to remove the barrier that stood between us and the rest of the tower.

o-O-o

The first floor of the tower presented us no problems, but as we climbed the stairs towards the second I halted the group outside the door.

'…have you thought about it?'

'We're making sure no one disrupts Uldred's plan. I thought that was quite clear.'

I heard Wynne hiss behind me, she made to push forward but I put my arm across her path to stop her.

'But he's not _Uldred_ anymore… I never wanted it to go this far.'

'Neither did I, But this is what we're faced with and–' Wynne stepped back again, her foot slipped on the step and she made a soft sound.

'Quiet! Both of you! I think I heard something–'

I cursed quietly and glared at Wynne, who had the sense to look apologetic. I kicked the door open and sent Alistair inside first, I followed and we saw the three mages huddled in a corner, trying to hide from… anything that might wander their way.

Two of them charged at us, Alistair and Sten made short work of them with Wynne's protection spells. The third, however, stood in the corner; her head bent waiting for us to come.

'Please,' she whispered as I approached her, wiping my blades clean of her comrades blood. 'Please don't kill me.'

'The people you've killed, or helped to kill, didn't want to die either – tell me why I should spare your life?' I pointed my daggers towards her, but I knew that I would not use them. She was free from the demons, and I had said that I would save those that could be saved. However, we needed information.

'I know that I have no right to ask for mercy, but I didn't mean for this death and destruction.' Sten scoffed at her and turned his back. 'We were just trying to free ourselves!' she pleaded. 'Uldred told us that the Circle would support Loghain and Loghain would help us be free of the Chantry–'

'You were supporting that traitorous bastard!' Alistair sneered at the woman. I knew that Alistair had no love for maleficars as it was, but one in support of Loghain; she had already sealed her doom in his eyes.

'You don't know what it's like – the Templars were watching, always watching…'

'Yes, I wonder _why_,' his voice dripped with disdain, his face crinkled with disgust.

'Alistair,' I warned him, throwing him a sideways glance. He stiffened up, but didn't back down.

'We thought… someone always has to take the first step – force a change no matter the cost. And now Uldred's gone mad and we're scattered, doomed to die at the hands of those who seek to right our wrongs…' I made to speak but Wynne cut me off.

'Nothing is worth what you've done to this place,' Wynne's voice was high with distress at what she was hearing from the younger mage. 'You've killed your friends, your brothers and sisters, and made things worse for _all_ future mages. You selfish, foolish girl!'

'I would like the chance to atone for what I've done, but I don't think…'

'No you _didn't_ think!' Wynne snapped. 'She is a Maleficar. Alistair, I remember you being here before – Templar training, correct?' Alistair nodded hesitantly. 'Then you know what must be done.'

'What–' I tried to speak, but lost my voice when I looked at him; his eyes were hard and set against the woman who moved back against the wall, her hands feeling feebly at the stone behind her.

'Please,' she begged again. 'If you spare me I… I could seek penance at the Chantry.'

'You know they'll never take you,' his voice was sad as he raised his sword. Stunned by the sudden change in him, I watched as he approached the cowering woman. 'They're very picky about who they let in. Harlots and murderers, yes. Maleficarum, oh no…'

'No!' I commanded, but it was too late, his sword was already swinging through the air with too much force to stop. I closed my eyes, turning my head as I heard it connect to her frame and the blood splattering across the stone floor.

I turned and glared at the three of them. Sten stood with his back to them still, glancing over his shoulder to see what had happened. He sniffed and turned back to watching the doors. Wynne stood, her arms folded, looking pleased with the outcome of the confrontation, while Alistair…

He looked at his sword stunned, unsure if he had done what he had done.

'What, in the name of the sodding Ancestors, did you just do?' I screamed. I was surprised by my sudden rage; I was not quick to anger, I was a reasonable woman, but when I did get angry I found that I could not stop until it was spent. But this rage had come on so quickly-

'What did I say when we came in here?' I continued without meaning too. 'What did I say to that Templar Commander was my _one_ condition of taking on this task? What did _you_ say to _her,_' I spat in the direction of our latest companion, 'when you were downstairs?'

I saw realisation dawn across his handsome features. 'To save whomever we could,' he whispered.

'So, why, by the Ancestors' hairy nipples, did you kill her?'

'Warden,' Wynne tried to intervene.

'Back off!' I sneered at her, my fingers twitching for my blades again. I could feel the fury pumping through my veins, could feel my breath shortening and my chest getting tighter. _Calm down, _I told myself. _Calm down before you kill someone._

'I don'tknow you. How do I know that you're not one of them? How do I know that you're not manipulating us right now?' I threw at her. 'For all you know, Alistair.' I turned my attention back to the almost-Templar. '_This_ woman is corrupted; she could actually be some demon in disguise.' As quick as I could blink, Sten turned upon the mage his sword raised.

'I am not!' she protested, stepping away from the towering Qunari.

'_That_ is what one would say,' Sten asserted. 'You were quick to join us. You were quick to condemn her. If it were up to me, you would join her.'

'Enough!' roared Alistair, his own sword raised toward Sten, his eyes flashing with anger and determination.

'Wait!' I cried out, throwing down my blades, trying to get them away from me. I ran my shaking hands over my face, forcing myself to take a deep shuddering breath. We were locked inside a tower full of demons, abominations and blood mages, and now we were all screaming at one another.

'Something isn't right here,' I tried to keep my voice steady, forcing back the instinct to lash out. Alistair looked down at me, his sword shaking in his hand.

'Rage,' he whispered. Wynne gasped and Sten cursed. 'A rage demon is here.'

The door behind us flew off its hinges and crashed at our feet as a towering, burning creature hurled towards us.

o-O-o

I stood up, brushing off the soot on my leathers. My nose wrinkled in disappointment as I saw I had singed my leathers on the damn demon as I had leapt for the blades I had thrown away.

'Alistair.'

I approached my fellow Warden carefully. After slaying the demon we had each retired to our own place to take a few moments to calm ourselves and regain our emotions. I was used to hiding emotions after having to hide them from the world for so many years. My love for Gorim hidden from all and my anger at my enemies always masked with a smile and a laugh as I tried to calculate how to hit them hardest. But since Bhelen had betrayed me my emotions had been laid bare; my fear, my anger, my weakness were all on show for all to see – although poor Alistair was the one who seemed to be constantly on the receiving end of them.

And now he sat there, slumped against a bookcase, arms hanging over his raised knees as if he had nothing left in the world. I tried again.

'Alistair.'

He looked up at me, his eyes shadowed by despair. 'What did I do? I didn't give her a chance.' He shook his head as he glanced over to where the bodies of the Magi lay. 'I should have taken her down to the others, she should have been held until the Templars could deal with her.'

'Alistair, look at _me,_' I urged him. His whisky coloured orbs returned to mine as I crouched down in front of him. 'She may or may not have been corrupted, she may or may not have been a blood mage, but what she did do, what we know for certain was that she sided with the ones who have caused this.' I took his hands and squeezed them as he made to speak.

'Alistair, don't let what that Angry Demon influenced you to do destroy you – if you do it still wins.'

'How do you do it?' he asked me simply. 'How do you always know what to say to me? How do you always manage to fix things?'

'I- ummm…' I stared at him for a moment baffled by what to say. It had just always been expected of me to solve things, to find a solution to a problem or argument. I had watched my father do it and had learnt from him, but most of all I just opened my mouth and the words seemed to come.

'You're pretty when you're speechless,' he managed a small grin for me and I nudged his knees as I rolled my eyes.

'C'mon you.' I pushed myself up and held out my hand to help him up. 'Do you think that the bards will include this part of our tale?'

'Oh they _definitely_ need to include the _Angry _Demon part.'

o-O-o

We forged on in silence; all of us too afraid to speak whilst we concentrated on cutting our way through the demons, spirits and abominations we found on our way up. After leaving the First Enchanter's room we made for the stairs up to the Harrowing Chamber. I was putting a large black book in my bag when I heard a voice from another room I hadn't noticed.

'Everything is just as you wanted, my Knight.' I frowned and motioned to the others to follow me. Sten sighed, but followed quietly. I pushed the door open and saw a Templar gazing adoringly at a demon. I blinked in surprise; I had never seen anything like it. She – I assume it was a woman, she had the shape of one – was bright purple and had chains hanging from her exposed nipples, her long ears adorned with piercings, and horns curled around her head. She floated a clear two feet off the ground.

'What in Andraste's name is going on here?' Alistair demanded throwing the door open wide, causing the demon to turn to look at us.

'Do you hear something, love?' she asked the Templar, untroubled by the sudden interruption.

'It is nothing, my darling, just the door – I will get it,' the Templar answered.

'The children have finished supper,' the demon spoke again. I looked around for the children, wondering what she was on about. I looked at Alistair and Wynne. 'Tuck them into bed whilst I see who it is.' She clicked her fingers and the Templar's chin dropped to his chest, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping.

'You have this Templar ensorcelled, don't you?' Alistair demanded, his sword rising.

I put my hand on Alistair's sword, holding it downwards. He frowned and looked at me, questioning my action. 'What's ensorcelled?'

'It's bewitching him.'

'Happiness is bewitching,' the demon spoke, her voice was rich and beautiful, yet hazy and dreamy, and warmed areas of me I never knew were alive. 'I have merely given him what he always wanted. Where is the harm in that?'

'His happiness is an illusion, a cruel lie!' Wynne spat. 'It is normally caused by something real – real events, real people. What you've done to him is… is abhorrent.'

'But he had no happiness. I saw his loneliness and longing for a family that loved him.'

'A family where the wife and children are, in reality, the same person… thing. That there… that defines creepy,' Alistair whispered at me. 'Why are we not killing it?' I held up my hand to hush him as I stepped forward to take a better look at her.

'How long will you keep him in this stupor?' Wynne continued arguing, again taking the lead in our group. 'Will he know it when his body fails and death claims him?'

'A short blissful existence is preferable to the interminable one of misery,' the demon reasoned. My mind drifted back to my last night at Ostagar.

_If this is my last night on this land, give me one night, one night with you, to know what it is to love freely and be happy…_

'You are a wicked demon and deserve to die,' Alistair's voice was strong and clear as he raised his sword towards her – it.

'No.' I stepped closer still. 'I do not know what you are – I do not understand what it is you are doing.' I looked at the Templar as I walked around the pair; he hung in the air, a few feet off the ground. His face was peaceful, his whole body relaxed in contentment and fulfilment. Except for his unconscious state and that it was a demon wrapped around his body, I saw no evil.

'I fulfil his dreams.' The demon told me as her hand slid up the Templar's chest. 'I grant him all his desires. Is he my slave, or am I his? I saw his heart,' her voice dripped with sadness. 'He has gone through his life empty, resentful of his vows. He hates the Chantry, hates his position; there is no happiness in his life, in reality.' She gazed over at Wynne for a second and I took the chance to glance at Alistair.

His face softened as the demon spoke of the man's inner most feelings, his desires. _He came so close to the same fate, _I thought. I could see in his eyes how he empathised with the Templar. His sword dipped_._

'In here,' the demon touched the Templar's temple. 'We are partners, I give him what no one else can, and through him I experience what it is to be mortal.'

'You're a parasite,' Wynne spat. 'We must be rid of you.' She raised her staff and began to chant. Sten pushed her rod downwards and nudged her gently, causing her to stumble in her spell.

'Freedom cannot be given. The Templar must choose it for himself.' The mage looked aghast at the giant, and turned to Alistair for support. The almost-Templar refused to look at her; instead he focused on the unconscious man, his eyes uncertain, licking his lips nervously.

'Our thoughts and spirits,' the demon looked at the elderly woman, 'are melded. If one perishes, so does the other. Though much of my strength is spent maintaining this link, I am his wife, his children; he will defend me to the death if need be.' She pressed herself against the Templar again. 'I want nothing from you. I have what I need; all I ask is that you leave us alone.'

'We will not!'

'Are you saying,' I spoke, my voice clear, confident. 'That if you die, he dies.'

'Yes,' the hazy, dreamy voice of the demon answered.

'But you're feeding off him, so he's going to die anyway?' I wanted to be completely clear on the fate of this man before I gave my answer – the answer that I would ensure they all understood would be the one that they followed.

'Sadly, yes. Mortality is a mortal's greatest weakness.' It sighed and looked at us disappointedly. 'Yet it is strange that it is something we demons desire so much.'

'I want to be completely clear,' I told the demon as I stood looking at my companions as I stood behind the Templar. 'Either way the man dies, but if I leave him with you, you will give him happiness for the remainder of his time, be it hours, days or weeks.'

'I'll give him e_verything_.' Her voice made me shiver in anticipation as my eyes caught Alistair's heated gaze.

'We will leave you alone, demon, if you do the same for us.'

'You have my word. I will do no harm to you.' The demon looked directly at Wynne. 'Or those who travel with you. Come my pet,' she addressed the Templar. 'We are going for a walk; the children wish for you to show them all the stars in the night sky.'

Wynne stared at me, her face red with fury. Only Sten gave me any show of support – he nodded his head approvingly before turning and leaving the room, Wynne followed him, muttering something I couldn't hear.

Alistair looked… again I shivered at his heated gaze and hurried over to him; his hand reached for me and I batted it away, frowning at him. He blinked a couple of times before looking up at the demon again. 'Are we killing it?' I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

'Leave him alone,' I told the demon as I looked over my shoulder. 'You gave your word.'

The demon pouted but nodded. 'A shame I didn't find him first,' she laughed; it sounded like music on the wind, distracting and alluring. 'His desire is even stronger than this one.' She took one last look at the pair of us before turning back to her ensorcelled Templar. 'It is time for us to retire, my love.'

I pushed a confused Alistair out of the room and closed the door behind me.

o-O-o

'Oh look. Visitors,' a lazy voice said as Sten opened another door. I raised my blades ready to fight. 'I'd entertain you, but… too much… effort involved.' The voice made me feel sleepy, my eyes heavy. I shook my head and forced myself to focus on the beast that stood before me.

If I thought I had seen everything when I met the desire demon, I was very much mistaken. This thing was a mass of flesh, creeping around on tentacles, its one eye piercing my mind, the other a gaping dark hole in its head. It had no mouth, closed over by mounds of oozing skins that dripped down its chin to its chest. The hump on its back pulsed as more branches of flesh crept out from it, wrapping around its shoulders.

'Resist it,' Wynne's voice sounded exhausted as she leant against a column in the antechamber. I heard a thump behind me; Alistair had fallen to the floor and a soft snore escaped him. I rolled my eyes and huffed as I turned back to the demon. _Sodding typical._

'You must resist it, child, or all is lost.' She looked at me, before closing her eyes and falling to the floor.

'Wynne? What-'

'We must stand… and fight…' Sten's voice interrupted me, it too sounded strained as if he was fighting to stay awake.

'What is it? I don't understand?'

Sten sat down, shaking his head. 'I cannot… fight it… you must…' His head lolled back and he too fell into a deep sleep.

'What are you doing to them, demon?' I asked raising my blades. 'Release them at once and I will consider sparing you.'

'Ah,' its voice sounded like it was smiling. 'Desire told me you had made a deal with her. She did not need you. I do.' It moved towards me, its tentacles creeping out over the floor. I moved back instinctively, and pointed my daggers towards it, struggling to keep my arms up; the blades that were usually so light in my hands were now so heavy... 'Are you not so tired of fighting? You deserve a rest…'

Another wave of tiredness swept over me, I dropped a blade and leaned my hand against a pillar, holding myself up. I shook my head again. 'You won't get me that easily,' I spat at it, trying to stand without support. A body of a mage lying in the middle of the room caught my eye. It looked pale and thin, as if it had been there for some time, but I saw its chest rise and fall.

'You are… intriguing. I have never had a dwarf before…' It crept closer to me. My legs were too heavy to move, my entire body felt like I was wearing heavy plate. 'So different. I imagine you would sustain me for a long, long time.'

It was before me now. I tried to lift my head, but I felt like I was wearing the Proving Helm.

It reached out and traced my cheek with its finger. 'So interesting…' It lifted my head to look at him, my eyes fluttered closed and my world went black.

* * *

_So much happier with this chapter than the others. Hope you don't mind my twists with the original story. I love the game and the story that it shows us, but David G himself said that a lot of it ended up on the editing room's floor due to time constraints (I think that that translates to EA made them hurry up with getting the game out ;-) ). Not that I don't love the Dragon Age story as it stands though :D_

_I was thinking… if you want to see Nyra and some of her game play, I have my screen shots at my Bioware social thing. The link is __social . bioware . com/playerprofile . php _?game=dragonage1_pc&nid=226282321&display=screenshots&persona_id=224687094 (don't forget to remove the spaces around the .'s)

_And yes, that's a dark haired Gorim and Zevran (I use the Dragon Age Redesign Mod that has a number of options for certain characters that you can choose from. I have a different Morrigan and Leliana too! I picked the Lore option and then chose the original model selection for the women.) The dark-haired Zevran will be mentioned in my tale, so keep an eye out for that one._


	13. Chapter XIII: Nightmares

_The fade always annoys me. Why would my Lady Aeducan's desire be to see Duncan again and visit Weisshaupt? It wouldn't be. Don't even get me started on the fact that she entered the fade in the first place! So I've changed it – Artistic License and all that! :D_

_Please note that Romance is not actually my preferred genre (that's Horror!) so the kissing scenes are a little hard for me to write - I hope that they work in this chapter for you._

* * *

Chapter Thirteen – Nightmares, Nightmares, Nightmares

The land stretched further than I could see, the bright blue sky was spattered with great fluffy clouds and swooping birds. I smirked as I thought of Alistair as he had declared that swooping was bad. I thought it looked pretty; the birds flying high and arching up before diving downwards towards the earth. Morrigan had explained to me how she could transform herself into birds and cats and sometimes animals as big as giant spiders and bears – although that required tremendous energy – but I had yet to see her in any of these forms and wasn't entirely sure if she was telling the truth or not.

For a second I wondered what it would be like to be one of those flying creatures reaching high for the sky… I shuddered.

'I prefer the night.' It was always easier to pretend the night sky was really a very high ceiling – not a gaping void above me.

The sky darkened and the full moon illuminated the sky high above me. The tiny pin-pricks of light the humans called stars twinkled at me as if they knew things I could never dream of – if the Dwarva _could_ dream. Leliana had told me just the night prior to us arriving at Lake Calenhad that the stars held the history of the world between them and that the people who influence history, and make the world a better place, get placed within the stars by the Maker to ensure that humanity doesn't forget them or their actions.

I had thought about the Paragons in the Hall of Heroes in Orzammar and likened the night sky to them. Leliana had seemed excited about our planned trip to Orzammar, but my lack of enthusiasm disappointed her. Only Sten seemed to understand what it meant to be exiled by my people, and now I understood why – he was facing the same when he returned to Par Vollen. I sighed.

'Why are you not happy?' the deep voice of a hidden demon asked me. 'Is this not what you asked for? Did I make a mistake?' I shook my head. It was exactly what I asked for. 'It is not an easy thing to do when I cannot read your mind.' It sounded irritated, which made me smirk.

I had been here for a couple of hours now, just sitting and thinking. The demon kept asking me what I wanted, what it could do to make me happy. It had told me that the only thing they could glean was that freedom was important to me, but they did not understand what it was that I wanted from it.

It was hard to explain when I didn't know what I wanted from it either. I had asked Cailan to allow me to join the Wardens. Why? Was it because I feared he would trap me too? But wasn't I just as trapped with the Wardens? Even more so now that there was only Alistair and me trying to fight the Blight? I sighed again. Always trapped, always doing things for others and never getting what I truly wanted – and when I did get the chance, it was snatched away again. I thought of how unfair life had been to my love, my brother and I. We had all come so close to having what we all wanted and then Bhelen had cruelly taken it from us all.

'I want my little brother,' I whispered. 'Bhelen.'

o-O-o

'Who- Who are you? Where did you come from?' a nervous voice asked me as the bloody body of Bhelen fell from my vision. 'Are you a demon?' I looked up, bewildered by the man standing before me. The world around us was no longer the perfect meadow Alistair had described when I had been lying in Flemeth's bed, trying to assure me that the surface wasn't a terrible place. Instead it was a shifting landscape, a constantly changing mass that would form into a place and then quickly revert to another, just as it had done until the demon had asked me what I wanted.

'No, I see that you're not,' the man nodded happily. 'Congratulations on getting out of that trap.'

'I am of the Dwarva,' I informed him, thinking he should already know this information. 'The fade cannot deceive me. I deceived it.'

'Really? How so?'

'The demons cannot read my mind; they have to ask what I wish, what they can give me. They make themselves known because I can't control the fade and they can't control me.'

The man looked at me pensively, mulling over my words. Finally he spoke.

'You just might be what is needed.'

'Typical,' I muttered under my breath. He looked at me for a second to see if I would repeat myself. When I didn't he continued.

'This is the raw fade,' the man told me. 'This is what it truly is, unformed, unperceived. When we dream the fade forms around us, bending to our minds' desires, or our thoughts and feelings. When demons lead us here they are able to create our desires and fears, our dreams and nightmares; using it to their advantage to trap people here. They confuse them, weave lies and deceive them into believing they are still in the real world.'

'Who are you?' I asked, realising that the man was rambling on about things I had already put together myself. Was he another demon trying to convince me to stay within the fade? I wanted my freedom both from this and in the real world – they were not going to convince me otherwise. It was as Sten said earlier – you must choose freedom. You cannot be given it.

'My name is Niall; I am a Senior Enchanter of the Circle.'

'Like Wynne?'

'You know Wynne?'

'She has been trapped here too – we were trying to save the Circle.'

'As was I.' He turned from my gaze. 'I was on my way to the Harrowing Chamber when I encountered the Sloth Demon. I was going to use the Litany of Adralla to stop them.'

'Them?'

'The blood mages – the ones who started all this. The Litany is a weapon against domination.'

'So why would that work against mages?' I asked confused. Demons controlled people – I had seen that myself from Rage, Desire and Sloth, but the Magi?

'A blood mage can get into your mind and take control of your body. You can't stop what they make you do – but the Litany protects against that.'

I gasped as I thought back to the woman in the tower, how she had begged for her life, how _I_ had been willing to give her that chance. I gritted my teeth – Wynne and Alistair had been right in their actions, even if their emotions had been influenced, heightened by a demon. I thought about the irony of the whole situation we had been in.

'You seem surprised by that.'

'I… I admit that I do not know much about the Magi or their abilities. The Dwarva do not have much call for studying them, seeing as they are no threat against us.'

'I fear we are our own biggest threat.' He shook his head sadly. 'The Templars are right to watch us so vigilantly. We cannot be trusted. But, I digress. You are here now and you can save the tower.'

'How, I'm stuck here?'

'That's just it – you cannot be deceived by this demon, you will be able to walk freely through the nightmares, knowing what they really are. You can free those who are already trapped here, waken them to the reality of their situation and attack Sloth. Then you can awaken and use the Litany, and take back the Circle and the tower.'

'I had companions – are they here too?'

'Probably – but you can find them.' The mage walked towards a dais. 'This is a fade pedestal. I have never seen one so big before.' I followed him and looked at the plinth. Runes covered the surface of it, glowing brightly. Only two were dull, as if they had been extinguished. 'A pedestal is a connection of dreams that a demon is in control of at any one time, it is what empowers them.

'So these runes show those nightmares that Sloth has at the moment. The pedestal grows as more dreams are added; these four appeared just recently. This one,' he pointed at a rune that had stopped glowing, 'died just as you appeared; which makes me assume that this one was my nightmare.' He pointed at the other 'dead' rune.

'Those three, then, must be my friends.' I went to touch one of the runes.

'Don't!' Niall grabbed my hand. 'If you touch one you will be taken there. However, it is a good assumption to make, that these are the people you seek. The others have been here longer than I have – I would waste no time with them.'

'What?' I questioned.

'My spirit tells me that I have already been here too long. Sloth is using my body to fuel these nightmares and once mine is gone, he will use your friends and eventually your own. Those who are lighting these runes will already be gone – only their spirits remain tied here.'

'So what do I do? Just go and tell my friends "Hey you know that this is all a dream right?" I'm sure they'll believe that!'

'The demons within the dreams are the ones that hold a person's mind captive to the nightmare for Sloth. These demons are just minions of his and do not have the strength to permanently confine someone to the dream if they are vanquished. Their only power is creating the illusions. If you cannot convince your friends to see through the illusion, or the deceit of the nightmare, you must dispatch the demons.'

'But, if I am aware of the dream and I'm here – how do I wake up?'

'I do not know – I guess…'

'What?'

'Sloth is the real power here. His minions control the illusions, but Sloth controls the pedestal, he controls this section of the fade. He will need to be called here, from our world, and faced down for you to be released. I- I can do that, but it will require all that is left of me.' He looked at me with fear in his eyes. 'I will do that… when your friends are free. If Sloth is defeated before they are aware that they are trapped in a dream – when the nightmare crashes their minds will break.'

'Great.' I looked down at the dais again and took a calming breath before I reached out with a finger. 'Wish me luck?' I asked the mage before I touched the stone.

o-O-o

I was outside; the tower of the Circle was across the lake as I stared out into the night.

'Shanedan.' A stern voice caused me to turn around.

'Who are you talking too?' A group of Qunari were camping on the shore. Their campfire burned warmly and lit their faces. Sten's was as stone, as usual, but the others were relaxed. _More than one_, I realised as I looked at his two kinfolk.

'Don't bother The Sten,' a second one spoke. 'Isn't it your turn to cook anyway?'

'Cook what?' the first man asked. 'There's nothing to cook in this miserable, frozen country.'

'_Parshaara_!' Sten's stern voice cut across the two. 'We have a guest. Make room at the fire.'

'Atrast Vala,' I bade them as I sat. 'Good evening, Sten.'

The Qunari eyed me warily, as he threw a stick onto the fire. The two other men carried on complaining, their light-hearted banter caused me to raise a questioning eyebrow towards Sten. He continued to throw sticks on the fire, his violet eyes never leaving mine.

'None of this is real, you know,' I tried hopefully.

'I know.' His blunt words surprised me.

'What?'

'This is a dream. I am no fool, Warden.'

'The Arishok would disagree with you!' The two other Qunari laughed mockingly. Sten's mouth turned into a slight smile.

'It is a dream, but it is a good dream.'

I recalled the conversation we'd had briefly on this very shoreline the previous night. 'I thought you said you came with seven brothers?'

'I did – when I came here,' he lowered his voice, 'I killed five of them before I realised that it would be fruitless. If I was to be trapped here, I might as well be with my brothers again.'

I sat back as one of his companions handed me a bowl of stew. We ate quietly whilst the other two joked and bickered. I smiled thinking of our own camps on the way to the Circle. The night prior to reaching Lake Calenhad Docks a merchant had camped with us and a lute had been purchased from him for Leliana. She had played us a couple of tunes and we realised that she knew more dirty limericks than the whole dwarven army! When Sten had surprised us with some Qunari filth, Alistair's cheeks had lit the camp.

'Why do they call you "_The_ Sten"?'

'It is the same as when I call you "Warden". It is my title, my rank.'

'Oh. So what's your real name?' It was his turn to raise a questioning eyebrow to me. I chuckled. 'It was worth a try.' I put the bowl down and sighed. 'Soldiers of the Beresaad don't waste time dreaming, Sten.'

'I am no longer of the Beresaad. I am no one.'

'Without your _Asala_ you mean?' The giant shifted uncomfortably. 'Tell me, _The Sten_, how are you different since you lost your sword to when you left your land? Physically what has changed?' He stared at me, unsure what I was asking him. 'Have you lost an arm, or a leg? Are you unable to fight or think? Or are you all that you were, but you are missing your sword, your proof of worth to your people?

'You are _Sten_. That's someone to me. And it will be to others.' I threw the spoon into the bowl, causing the other two Qunari to look at me quizzically in the firelight. 'This isn't like you. You're supposed to be practical.'

'And what has that accomplished? Death. Dishonour. Exile.'

His words made me hesitate. I too had been dutiful, practical, and it had lead to the same predicament. Exile. I looked at the man before me. I had to get him free.

'I'm still in charge, Sten. On your feet, we're leaving.'

The cooking Qunari burst out laughing, 'Look, the little thing thinks it can order The Sten around!'

'Good luck with that, Kabethari!' the other joined in.

'Freedom cannot be given.' I recited his own words. 'One must choose it for oneself. If you stay here,' my voice was soft and quiet, allowing only Sten to hear. 'They died for nothing; _that_ is dishonour right there.' Sten looked at me before rising to his feet.

'For once, Warden, you are right.' He picked up his sword and swung it wide, hitting the cook in the face. Before I had a chance to register the first death, he pulled his sword free of the demon's head and rammed the blade through the other.

o-O-o

'That was quick!' Niall greeted me warmly as we reappeared in the raw fade as he called it. 'And you found one of your friends.' He moved towards me as if anticipating discussing what I had seen, but I didn't want to waste a moment. I had to get the others out if we were in danger of being trapped here forever.

'Thank you, Niall, yes.' Without even introducing Sten to the trapped mage I hit another rune, keeping tight hold on the warrior's arm.

o-O-o

We appeared in the Circle tower, back where we had met Wynne, but this time the vaulted chamber was utter chaos. The room was strewn with the slaughtered bodies of children and the older Magi lay beside them. Wynne was sitting in the centre of the hall, openly weeping, holding the lifeless body of a tiny child. Her lips whispered something we couldn't hear.

'This isn't real, Wynne,' I said softly to the elderly mage as we approached her.

'Maker forgive me, for they did not deserve this,'

'Don't believe it, Wynne.'

'Get back, demon!' she pushed the child's body away and threw herself back from me.

I looked at Sten, who shrugged. It wasn't going to be as easy convincing her as had been the Qunari; obviously their minds were as strong as their bodies… but humans. Weak, as Sten would say. Susceptible would be my word.

'I will not have you toy with me!' Her words were meant to be strong, but there was a slight tremor in her voice.

'I'm not a demon, Wynne.' I took another cautious step towards her, hesitating briefly when I realised she hadn't moved back again before I took another. 'I'm not the demon, these – _things_ are. They're not real. They're keeping you here-'

'And where is _here_, exactly?' she spat.

'We're in the fade.'

'The fade? Ha!' she scoffed. 'I have great experience of the fade – I would know it if I were in it.' I raised my eyebrow. The old biddy sure was haughty; she could give the nobles in Orzammar a run for their money in the self-important stakes. First giving orders to Alistair back in the world of the living and now…

'Oh really?' I looked down my nose at her; I had been raised to play these games. 'And are the Magi not the most vulnerable to the lure of demons.'

'I…'

'Do you not remember the Sloth Demon back in the tower – the Desire Demon with the Templar, the Rage Demon?'

'The Warden speaks the truth,' Sten finally joined in.

'Warden? Wait…' She squinted up at me. 'That sounds familiar.'

One of the bodies moaned, causing us all to turn and look at the group Wynne had moved away from.

'You're alive? Oh thank the Maker!'

'Convenient,' I remarked, eyeing the _child_ suspiciously as Wynne wrapped her arms around it and held it close.

'How dare you?' she challenged me, as she brushed the hair back from the child's face. 'A glimpse of hope…'

'They're all alive Wynne, in the real world, with your friends.' I nodded to the two fallen mages. 'You told them to watch the children as we went to clear the tower. If we don't wake up soon, the Right of Annulment will arrive from Denerim and the Templars _will_ destroy them. Then this _will_ be real.'

'Wynne,' the child whispered drawing the mage's attention. As the elderly woman gazed loving at the image before her, the demon reached up and cupped her face with its hands, thanking her over and over again for not leaving them.

'It is no good Warden. We should leave her if she is unwilling to free herself.'

I shook my head as I sighed, he was right – in my previous life as High Commander I would have left her to her fate, but now as a Warden I needed all the help I could get. There were already so few of the Magi left to fulfil the treaty should we be able to take back the tower.

I pulled my dagger free and plunged it into the unsuspecting demon. Wynne's eyes grew wide in surprise before she screamed as the thing gurgled and then died in her arms.

'What did you-'

Her words froze in her throat as the other bodies began to stir, moans and groans emanating from the group.

'But you're dead…' she whispered disbelievingly.

'No, Wynne, not yet anyway.' I stood back up, and wiped my blade before glancing at Sten. 'Ready for round two?' I winked at the Qunari, who grunted before he raised his sword high in the air and swung it around his head, ready to begin the slaughter.

o-O-o

'Wynne!' Niall called happily as we reappeared back to where the trapped mage seemed to reside. 'Oh, Wynne, it truly is you.'

'Niall?' She approached him with caution until the young man bounded over to her and threw his arms around her. 'Another trap!' she exclaimed trying to push the man off her.

'No, Wynne, this one's real,' I told her as I peered down at the pedestal again, ignoring the old woman. There were now four runes that appeared to be dead.

'And the other Warden is which one?' Sten asked as he leaned over me, peering at the runes himself. 'How do you know?'

'This one,' I pointed at the first of the runes that Niall had pointed too. 'The mage told me.'

'And you trust him?' The giant sniffed and shot a look towards where the two mages where now conversing. 'He could be a demon – or a blood mage trapped here.'

'I don't think so,' I shook my head. 'I think the two of us would know – wouldn't we?' I glanced up at him, looking for reassurance, but he just shrugged and looked back towards the two mages suspiciously as Niall and Wynne approached us.

'Stay here with Niall, Wynne. Sten and I will go and find Alistair.'

'No,' her voice seemed a lot stronger than it had been since we found her. 'Sloth trapped us in here together; we'll all fight him together – step by step.' I had to admit it, I might not completely like the old biddy or her way of doing things, but she had determination.

I held my hand out to her and she grasped it firmly. I nodded to Sten who clamped his hand on my shoulder and then reached down and took a deep breath, thinking of Alistair as I touched the final rune.

o-O-o

We stood in a generous garden, basking in the glorious sunshine of a warm day. A large, welcoming house stood before us. I looked at the others, confused.

'This is different,' I said as we made across the garden. 'I don't recognise this.' The windows of the house were all open, allowing for the light breeze to blow through, whilst smoke curled up out of the chimney.

'All dreams are different, child,' Wynne told me as she peered through one of the windows. 'It depends on what the demon thinks they will feed on the most. For me it is the despair that I would fail to protect those I promised to defend. For Alistair–'

'It is dwarves,' Sten interrupted, his voice sounding slightly amused – for Sten. The Qunari was peering through another window.

'What?' I asked as we scrambled over towards him. I looked inside and gasped at the sight before us. It was me, dressed in a simple, but attractive, gown; my hair was loose and was in the process of becoming dishevelled as Alistair ran his fingers through it as he kissed me. Passionately.

'Oh my,' Wynne giggled a little nervously as she peered down at me. 'I didn't realise that you two were–'

'We are _not_!' I exclaimed, but unable to remove my eyes from the sight before me, my mouth becoming dry as familiar stirrings of wantonness began deep within me. One of his hands roamed lower, down my back and over my bottom, pulling me into him. 'Oh!' I gasped, before I looked down at my own hide, frowning.

'Please tell me you are not jealous, Warden?' Sten asked.

'Of course not!' I blushed as I turned back to the window. The other me started to remove his shirt as Alistair began to unbutton the garment my twin was wearing. 'Ancestors take me!' I gasped.

'Oh…' Wynne managed, her own cheeks flushing red. Sten cleared his throat.

'Stop watching!' I commanded them, my voice high. 'You perverts!'

This was all wrong – we weren't supposed to do things like that. Grey Wardens did not fall in love and get married. They killed Darkspawn and stopped Blights. _They do not get all hot and heavy_, I told myself in a voice that wasn't as strong as I would have liked. I stomped back towards the door we had passed – I would kick it down and drag him back to Niall if I had to.

'Nyra, wait,' Wynne called out as she hurried to catch up to me. She pulled me to a stop and turned me to face her. 'Unlike mine and Sten's, his dream is not based on true events – it is a desire, a hope or a dream that he craves. This is a strong dream, one that he might not be willing to let go of.'

'Wait… he _desires_ this? Me? This is an _actual_ want of his? Not something that a demon is just cooking up?'

'Well, the demon will have made all this out of a dream that he has, perhaps it is one that he consciously thinks about, or it may be an unconscious one. I feel power here, Nyra, but it is not the demons'. Alistair has willingly built this image; the demon is just fuelling it on.'

'So he's not being held by the demon? He's holding himself here?'

'Perhaps – I do not know. Either way, we must be careful. As I said, this isn't a real event of the past, one that you can call him on. We must proceed carefully, we don't know how he will react and we do not want to cause him injury.'

'My dream wasn't based on real events either, but I managed to get out of it.' I crossed my arms and frowned at the woman, who sighed at me.

'Yes, but you are dwarven, you are naturally resistant to the lures of demons. Alistair is not.'

'No,' Sten's voice drifted over to us again. 'He is definitely not resistant to demons; willing would be the word I would use – keen, eager, ready, enthusiastic would be others.' I glared at the Qunari who actually _smirked_ at me.

'Remind me _why_ I came for you again?'

'We can use this,' Wynne ignored us both. 'If he is… dreaming of you – when we walk in there the demon will be forced to change tactics, that means you will be able to take up the demon's place as yourself – play the part of his lover, encourage him to listen to you as we deal with the threat of the demon.'

'You want me to go in there and- and do… _that_!' I shook my head.

'What did you have to do to get out of your dream? Surely it was more than fluttering your eyelashes at a handsome young man.'

'You're asking me to do more than flutter my eyelashes.'

'_She_ is certainly doing more than fluttering her eyelashes.' Sten was peering back through the window. Sten's eyes went wide in surprise for a moment before he turned to look at me – his cheeks were a little flushed. 'I have never seen that before,' he muttered as he stepped away from the window and finally joined us, clearing his throat. I closed my eyes and shuddered, telling myself that I did not want to know what he had just seen.

'Can't we just go in and kill me – it?' I asked Wynne hopefully.

'If we all just walk in there, she'll convince him that _we're_ the demons.' Wynne looked thoughtfully at the door. 'Go in, be what he wants you to be. We will watch from here – see what the demon does to counter you – then we will be ready to attack. But you _must_ keep him distracted and away from it.'

I looked towards the door to the house and sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat. 'Fine,' I relented. 'I'll do it.'

I tried the handle and found it opened easily. Stepping inside, I resisted the urge to fold myself into the shadows and attack whatever it was with my blade. Alistair stood in the hallway, his face confused, as if he had come in here for something and then forgotten what it was he wanted. When his eyes rested on me his face lit up and he hurried over to me quickly. I closed the door behind me and allowed him to sweep me into his arms.

'There you are!' he exclaimed happily. 'I was just thinking about you.'

'Oh?' I asked, trying to smile. I pulled back and shifted my gaze from his as I tried to keep the horror of his words from showing on my face; the thought of his embrace with the demon-me just moments before fluttered through my mind.

'Yes,' he grinned, 'wicked naughty thoughts, your favourite kind.'

'Oh really?' I questioned. I suddenly felt sick. We had witnessed his acts, and yet to him they were just thoughts, memories, ideas or fantasies. What sick place was this?

'I think, that you think of them far too much.' I grinned despite myself, realising that that was the exact thought I had in the real world whenever I heard him muttering the Chant of Light. Which was quite often.

'I can never think of you enough,' his voice dropped low; Gorim's voice would do the same before he kissed me. His lips pressed against mine and I gasped in surprise; a fire burst to life inside of me, heating my body from my fingers and toes to the top of my head. His lips moved over mine, causing the fire to consume me, building within me until I could contain it no more and returned the kiss, opening my mouth to him, giving him entry to what he so desperately sought. I wove my arms up around him, grasping his shoulders, pulling him closer to me.

He moaned in response, his hands in my hair, pulling my head closer; I whimpered as one trailed down my back towards my rear. Somewhere in my suddenly foggy mind that annoyed me, but as his fingers dug into the ample flesh of my behind the flames reignited in my stomach, heat flowing downwards. I snuggled closer, but not close enough – there was too much fabric between us and an image of his perfect bare chest popped into my mind.

I pulled his tunic from his britches and ran my hands underneath. He sucked in a sharp breath as my hands touched his skin. 'Nyra,' he breathed. I grinned against him, as I ran my hands around the band of his trousers.

'Papa!' a girlish squeal came from behind, causing us to jump apart and for Alistair to turn, protecting me from whatever intruded upon us. For a few moments his whole body was tense before he relaxed as a small thing threw itself at his leg.

'Father,' came a more masculine voice. I peeked my head around Alistair as he hauled a child up on his shoulder. A young girl squealed in delight again, whilst I spied a young man standing in a doorway.

'Ah, mother,' the young man nodded towards me before stepping forward, and leaned down to place a kiss upon my cheek. 'I didn't realise you had returned. How were your travels?' Alistair turned to us, swinging his arm around the young man as a father would hug his son.

_His son._

I looked at the little girl upon his shoulder who beamed down at me, her smile made all the cuter by her missing front teeth. She had Alistair's nose too, although her colouring was-

_Mine_!

I felt the breath leave me as I looked at the three of them. Both children were taller than dwarven children would be, or even half-lings, but that wouldn't have surprised me; what did surprise me was seeing my own features within their faces. The boy had Alistair's nose and jaw line, but my high cheekbones and eyes. The boy's hair was the colour of gold, but the girl's was a deep chestnut colour, as mine had been when I was young.

The girl was more like me, her jaw soft and feminine, but her eyes were Alistair's; the rich whisky colour and his golden skin tone marked her as his daughter.

_Our children._

'Mother?' the boy asked me again.

'Momma?' the girl frowned at me, the sweet toothless smile she had been sporting fell from her lips. I looked towards the window and saw Wynne and Sten peering through. The mage looked taken-aback, whilst the Qunari scowled deeply. Obviously they had not been prepared for children, and especially not ones that Alistair would believe were our own.

I heard a baby wail above us, pulling my gaze away from the duo and back towards my false family. My stomach dropped away and my heart beat wildly in my chest.

'Ah, she's awake,' the young man told me.

'NO!' I shouted as my heart plunged to where my stomach had been. 'No!' I protested again, backing towards the door that I had come through just a few minutes before.

_Minutes_, I realised. _How can that be?_

How could a world be built in minutes? How could someone's life be rewritten in a matter of moments without them realising something was up? What was _wrong_ with these humans?

I looked at Alistair whose face was covered with confusion.

'This isn't real,' I told him, begging him to believe me. 'This is all a dream.'

'What are you talking about?' he asked, dropping his daughter to the floor.

'Are you okay, Momma?' she asked me, stepping in front of Alistair frowning at me; her eyes burning with fury and hatred. The young man sneered at me as I buckled under the pressure of the premise they were trying to build around my intrusion.

'Stay away from me demon!' I spat at the little girl, my eyes returning the hatred she burned me with.

'Nyra!' Alistair pulled the girl back, and pushed her behind him, protecting her from me.

'Get away from them, Alistair. This is a trick.' The door behind me opened and Wynne and Sten stood in its frame. Sten had his sword unsheathed, but Wynne left her staff upon her back. Alistair pushed the children back further, who made to move forward. He looked around quickly, probably for his weapon. I heard him curse under his breath.

'Think about all this, Alistair, and how you got here. Think carefully.' I had to think carefully too. Like the desire demon said in the tower, he would die to defend them. I took a deep breath, he was the one person in the world who had stood beside me since I had arrived at Ostagar, and there was no way I could lose him in here, not to _them. _He deserved more.

'Nyra, I know how I got here – we defeated the Archdemon, we saved Ferelden! We were married in the Denerim Chantry and we were given this land in thanks. Nyra, what is going on? What happened while you were away?'

'Alistair, I've never been away,' I whispered, trying to restrain myself. 'You left me, when we were at the Circle; the sloth demon took you away from me, to the fade. That's where you are, you're trapped here. Wynne, Sten and I are here to free you.'

I saw a hint of recognition spark behind his eyes, but his words said otherwise; 'Nyra, I don't know what's happened to you-'

'Come outside for a moment,' I moved forward and grabbed his hand. Trying to pull him towards me. 'Let me show you what I mean.' My eyes pleaded with him as he tried to snatch his hand back but I held on tight. The children hissed as Wynne and Sten stepped inside, standing either side of me, ready to do whatever it was I wouldn't be able to.

'I don't want to lose you,' I whispered desperately. 'If you love me,' I swallowed hard at that thought, 'believe me when I tell you this. Please!'

'He must chose to free himself,' Sten reminded me, and I wanted to weep. He wouldn't, he _wouldn't_ give this up. It was just as the Templar back in the tower had been. He wanted this too badly. After being thrown aside as a boy, he just wanted to be loved and accepted, this was everything he had ever wanted. Why would he give this up?

'I wouldn't want to give this up either, Alistair,' I told him, stroking his large hand that I still held. I saw the others moving around me, past towards where the children were. 'If it wasn't for the Blight, if I didn't have to at least _try_ and stop it from destroying this land, I wouldn't want to leave either.' I started to walk back slowly, his steps were hesitant, but he moved with me, his eyes softening, and I knew that the spell was starting to fall away from him.

'If it wasn't for all the innocent people who would be trapped, killed or turned into ghouls, I would stay with you, Alistair, I wouldn't leave you here. This place might not be real, but we would be.' I closed the door behind us as we stepped out onto the steps of the house. I guided him down the few steps that led up to the door as I stood at the top of them and stared him straight in the eye.

'Everything I ever wanted in my life was stolen from me by my own flesh and blood. I know what it's like to lose it all,' I ran my hands up his arms. 'I wouldn't take it from anyone else, not unless it was an absolute last resort.'

I pulled him to me, pressing my lips against his, holding him against me as the screams of the children were heard as Wynne and Sten dealt with the demons within. He fought against me, tried to pull away from me, struggling against what he knew was real and what he wanted to believe.

'Stay with me, for real, Alistair, in the real world,' I whispered against his cheek, feeling the wetness of tears upon them as his struggles became weaker – if they were mine or his I did not know. 'I can't give you a life like this, but I can give you a real friendship, a real reason to live and one day, when all this madness is over, you'll be free to really find this happiness, I'll make sure of it.' I leaned up and kissed him one final time, a kiss filled with sweetness and tenderness I had never known, a bittersweet farewell to something I hadn't known I wanted so much until that moment; no duty, no responsibility, just two people together; _that _was the freedom I was desperate for.

'Nyra,' he whispered.

'Yes, beloved?' I whispered back.

'Thank you.'

'Nyra?' Wynne's surprisingly soft voice interrupted us. We parted reluctantly and turned to see that we were back in the raw fade, back with Niall.

'Perhaps we are ready to kill the sloth demon now?' Sten asked impatiently, his sword already wet with blood. 'Maybe you both should be dressed more appropriately.' I looked down at the dress I was still wearing as Alistair magically transformed his garments into his splint-mail armour again.

'How?' I crossed my arms and frowned at the lot of them. 'I can't make things happen here.'

'Ah,' Niall frowned as he looked at me, concentrating hard upon my body, making me feel very self conscious. 'There.' I looked down to see that I was back in my leathers, as if I were still in the real world.

'So what's going on exactly?' Alistair asked as he looked around properly, avoiding looking at me. 'I remember walking into a room and then I was… Well, obviously here in the fade.' He finished in an embarrassed mumble.

'Something called a sloth demon,' I told him. My voice was clear, confident, trying to tell him that he needed to focus now on this, not on what happened before. 'Niall is going to call him forth and we're going to kill the bastard.'

'That… I can do.' Still he didn't look at me.

'Niall,' Wynne's voice was filled with concern, so different to how she had been back in the tower. I wondered if this was the real Wynne, soft and grandmotherly, when she wasn't thrown into a fight for her life and all those whom she cared for. I wondered how I would be once the war was over, once I had settled things with Bhelen, once I was free to go and just be me… I had never just been me… except for when I had almost run off with Cailan. 'Are you sure you want to do this? I can heal you when we get back to the tower.'

'And how are you going to get back without killing Sloth?' His whole formed seemed defeated. 'No, Wynne, I do not fear what may come. They say we return to the Maker in death, and that isn't such a terrible thing.'

'The stone would embrace a soul such as you,' I told him. 'They who have sacrificed themselves in honourable battled are welcomed souls. You would provide great power to our stone, strengthening those who lived upon you.'

'I- thank you.' I bowed to him. 'I'm not a … hero. Perhaps trying to be one was foolish.'

'Ordinary people can do great things when they have to. We can all be heroes; we just have to have the determination to be one. And you did – still do.'

'My mother said I was meant for greatness, that I would be more than my ancestors could have ever dreamed, but I was just a child and it was minutes before the Templars took me. I thought she was just trying to calm me.'

'Or perhaps she was trying to ensure you were brave – perhaps without her, you would never have tried.'

'Thank you,' he whispered. He cleared his throat. 'I will call Sloth forth – remember the Litany.'

Wynne motioned to us to move back, to give him room; we didn't want to be huddled when Sloth appeared – we'd be slaughtered before we could begin.

Niall began chanting, muttering under his breath. A soft light began to rise from the ground, enveloping his feet, and twisting up around his legs. His voice grew stronger as he pulled at the fade and brought it twirling around him, until he was encased in the light and shouting his demands to Sloth.

I took a step back and shielded my eyes as he threw wide his arms, his head thrown back as a great shimmering light made him radiate from within, illuminating his skin before his body exploded into a blinding ball of light. When I looked again, a hulking shadow shimmered in the failing light.

Sten roared before charging towards the silhouette…

o-O-o

I pulled myself across the floor and grabbed at the dead mage's hand. I squeezed it lightly, silently wishing him well wherever he may now be. I gently pried the Litany from his grasp and collapsed.

o-O-o

'So you were already in love with the Commander?' Lowena asked Alistair as he yawned.

'I think so. Flemeth did say that we would fall in love, so I think I kind of let it happen. You know like when someone points out to you something that you never noticed before and then afterwards all you can do is notice it?'

'Yeah, like your obsession with your hair,' Nyra rolled her eyes. 'Until the day you told me about that, I hadn't noticed how much you did it.' Lowena looked at Alistair's hair and Nyra swore she could hear glass smashing as it dawned on the Scholar how much he took pride in it. Nyra made to say something, but got caught up in a yawn of her own.

'Perhaps we should continue this another time?' The Scholar began to pack away her things and bowed to them before taking her leave.

As the door began to close behind her, she heard the Commander turn to her husband and ask him a simple, but heartbreaking question:

'Do you regret that I couldn't give you children?'

The Scholar almost melted as Alistair responded.

'I wish that _I _was able to give them to _you_. But I _never_ regret a moment of our lives, my love, and I never will.'

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_Hope that that was okay for you - I have chapter 14 written, but I've not yet sent it to Jo for proofing. I wanted to gage people's reactions first to how this went for them in regards to Alistair and Nyra. _

_Fingers crossed that you enjoyed it - Thanks to all those who read, and who have done so since chapter 1 and are still with us here :)_


	14. Chapter XIV: The Circle Complete

_Thanks to everyone for reading, to those who are lurkers you know who you are! Thanks for the reviews and the watchers! Means a lot, guys._

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Chapter Fourteen – The Circle Complete

When I next awoke it was Alistair's face that I saw first. He smiled nervously at me and helped me to sit up.

'Are we still in the fade?' I asked, panicking as I looked around before I realised we were just in a different room to where we had encountered the sloth demon, with Wynne and Sten sleeping on the floor across from where we were. Their peaceful states suggested that they were well again, or at least as well as they could be in a tower filled with demons and abominations.

'No,' Alistair reassured me settling me back against a wall for support, before taking a seat next to me. 'You got us out.'

'We got ourselves out.'

'Nyra about what you saw-'

'It's okay, Alistair,' I smiled at him, but he turned his gaze from me. I reached up and grasped his chin, pulling his face to mine. '_Look at me_,' I growled at him. 'Don't feel embarrassed by what I saw in there.'

'How can I not?' He shook his head and gently pulled my fingers from his jaw. 'Nyra, what you saw, I want so badly. I think about it all the time; a home, a wife, children… and I know that I can never have any of that.' His large thumb caressed my knuckles as we sat close together, my hand in his.

'Why not?' I demanded. 'When all this is done, when we're done with our obligations as Wardens to this Blight, why can't we each go and find happiness, love and a quiet family life?'

'In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. Even if we survive this Blight, Grey Wardens remain vigilant to the cause – we forsake all else-'

'I did not agree to a vow of chastity!' My voice was high as my eyes widened. I clamped my free hand over my mouth as Wynne shifted in her sleep.

'No, I didn't mean _that…_ trust me, the other Wardens were not… chaste… nor discreet.' He blushed again as I sighed heavily in relief. Gorim was waiting for me in Denerim and, once I found him, he was going to take his place at my side again as my Second… and lover? Although we had never been at it like nugs, when we had found a moment to share ourselves I had enjoyed it. And now, well now there was no reason for us _not _to be open about our relationship anymore, now we really could be together at last.

'Don't scare me like that, Alistair – I thought I was going to have to learn your Chant of Light for a moment then!' He flushed a deeper shade of red, but chuckled lightly; releasing some of the tension he was holding.

'So no time for babies and partners if we're off chasing Darkspawn? Load of rubbish!' I scoffed at the thought as I imagined the Dwarva doing it for centuries. I told him just that. 'If it hasn't escaped your notice, we Dwarva are in the same boat as the Wardens – even more so, as there is no peace for us. There hasn't been a second, third or fourth Blight, just one long one. A Blight is a human word for when _their _lands are disrupted. We don't even have _our _lands anymore and yet we still have families and produce children.'

'I know,' he bowed his head as if he carried all the blame of the human race. 'I was raised in Redcliff and sometimes went to Rainsfere, which operates a lot of the trade routes with Orzammar. I saw the dwarven merchants, heard their tales and I used to ask lots of questions that no one could, or _would,_ answer about what happened to your people. And I've always admired your people, how they face that constant adversity and yet still maintain a home, but what I meant was… we can't have children. Grey Wardens, I mean, can't have children.'

'What?'

'It's the Taint. And I might as well tell you some more bad news too. In addition to all the other wonderful things about being a Grey Warden, like nightmares and no children, you don't need to worry about dying from old age. You've got thirty years. Give or take.

'The taint is a death sentence…'

'I know.'

'Ultimately your body won't be able to take it. When the – wait, what?' He looked down at me confused.

'I know, Alistair. Despite Wardens being largely of the human race, we hold a deep respect for them and what they do. We escort them to the Roads, some further than others, depending on where they feel they are to start their journey. We honour them with their names being recorded in our Memories.

'I, personally, have welcomed many Wardens to the Roads in my time within the Armies; from the Anderfels and Orlais, and even from Weisshaupt Fortress. None from Ferelden though, or at least not yet anyway, Duncan probably would've been the first.'

'I didn't realise you knew so much about them already.'

'I don't, just that they get to a point in their lives and they come to Orzammar. Some tell us stories of their adventures that span a few decades, and I've never seen one come to the city that is older than their fifties – give or take a few years. I put things together and make my conclusions, they're usually correct.'

_Although not always,_ I thought looking down at our entwined fingers, and my mind wandered back to the feel of Alistair's arms around me, embracing me tightly as his lips caressed mine. _And all this time I thought he was after Leliana. _

'I see.' We fell into silence again, watching Wynne and Sten sleep.

I bit my lip as I cast a glance at the blushing Templar and thought of what his real lips would feel like on mine. Would they cause the same warmth to flow through me as in the fade? Would I melt into his arms and beg him to make me his? I shook my head to dismiss the distracting thoughts.

'So I'll never have children?'

Gorim would be disappointed – he had always wanted them so badly, and I had always felt guilty for being unable to give him them at the time. Now it would appear that I'd never be able to be the mother he had always talked about.

'Not with m- another Warden. There's a chance you could have them with someone who is not a Warden, but it's still a small one.'

'Oh.'

'I know, I wasn't happy when I got told either.' He sighed sadly. 'Nyra, I just want to say thank you,' he muttered, and I could tell that he was feeling embarrassed again, his fingers playing with mine. 'I would have stayed there if it wasn't for you. If it was anyone else who had come to get me, I probably would have stayed… it was so real and I- I care about you.' He blushed and brought my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against it.

A tender flame flickered within me and I had my answer to my earlier question – I'd be consumed by fire, just as I had done in the fade, except now it would be real. I had to ensure that I kept my distance, for the sake of mine and Gorim's future – whatever that could now be – and for Alistair's own tender feelings; I didn't want to see him hurt. Although I was becoming close to Morrigan, Alistair was the only one in the group I would consider my friend. After all we'd been through so far, the brushes with death and constant battles, I didn't want to lose him.

_And yet,_ a guilty knot twisted in my stomach, _you have yet to tell him about Gorim, and your plans to bring him along._

'Alistair,' I sighed and bit my lip. 'I meant what I said in the fade – I cannot offer you what you imagined. But I offer you my friendship, and I will help you find peace in life after all this is over. I promise you that.'

Sadness tinged his eyes for a moment before he tried to push it away, failing miserably, as he managed a weak smile for me.

'I'll help you too – you can always count on me.' He squeezed my hand lightly, but neither of us let go.

o-O-o

We pushed on after resting, our no longer weary bodies ready for whatever lay ahead of us. We had no idea how much time had passed since we had taken on this endeavour; there were no windows in the tower for mages to escape, or try to jump from.

It didn't bother me. Being down in the Deep Roads for weeks on end meant that I was accustomed to little or no light, and being of a people that lived underground meant that false light, as the humans called it, was what was natural to me. It didn't seem to bother Wynne either. I surmised that having lived here all her life, she too would be accustomed to it. However, Alistair and Sten had started to get a little edgy as the shadows around them flickered constantly in the candlelight.

'When will we be out of this forsaken tower?' Sten cursed, standing behind me as we pushed through another door and found yet another set of stairs. Even I was growing tired of all the steps.

'We're nearly there, my friend,' Wynne tried to placate the giant, who grunted in response.

As we reached the top of the stairs, Alistair, who was leading, his shield up ready to protect us from any physical attack, screamed in agony, dropping his sword and grabbing his head. He fell to his knees as I ran to him, holding his shoulders to stop him from sinking any further.

'Alistair!' I cried out. 'What is it?'

'_Vashedan_!' Sten cursed and moved forward, past Alistair, to look at what was causing such a problem for the almost-Templar.

'Alistair, please, what's the matter?' I asked, trying to hold him up without getting hit by the shield, as he grabbed for his head again.

'Magic,' he hissed. 'Serious, _serious_, dark magic.'

'Uldred,' Wynne bit out. 'I will beat him to death with my staff if I have to. He will not get away with this, so long as I live.'

'There is another,' Sten called out to us from up ahead. 'Another one like the Warden.' Wynne hurried off towards where the Qunari was as I tried to get Alistair to focus on me.

'Can you walk?' I asked him, grasping his jaw to lift his head to meet my gaze. He tried to focus on me, gritting his teeth, before nodding his head. I helped him back to his feet and we stumbled towards where our companions had gone.

'This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I resisted _her_!She's dead, I know this – I have suffered enough already for my shame and weakness… but I cannot refuse her forever, temptress that she may be… I _will_ resist…I _will_ stay strong…'

'Another Templar?' I asked as I approached them. A young auburn-haired man was on his knees, praying to the Maker as Alistair and I approached. His whispered words struck a chord within me. The thought of Templar and Magi falling in love struck my heart as it reminded me of my own secret affair.

'Sten, you have to start referring to me and Alistair by name, Warden is going to get confusing.' The Qunari grunted again, and I understood his discomfort, as rank was important to him – it was even his name here in Ferelden.

'The boy is exhausted,' Wynne murmured as she examined the purple sphere surrounding the young Templar. 'And this cage… I've never seen anything like it. Rest easy young man,' she informed him, coming to stand with us again. 'Help is here.'

'Enough!' the Templar roared. 'Please,' he whispered, almost brokenly. 'If anything in you is human, kill me now and stop this game.'

'I am not human,' I spoke, stepping forward with Alistair clinging to me still, juggling both him and his heavy blade. 'And I will not kill an innocent if-'

'Silence!' he roared again. 'I'll not listen to anything you say. Now be gone!'

We all looked at one another for a moment as the Templar closed his eyes and demanded our exit. I shrugged at Sten who shrugged back. First it was convincing people that things weren't real, now it was convincing someone they were. This was a seriously mixed up place.

_I am _never _coming back here,_ I vowed to myself. _Ever._

Alistair let out a long slow breath as he started to stand up under his own strength again. He shook his head, hissing a little, but the colour started to return to his face as he rubbed his forehead and looked at the other Templar in the 'bubble'.

'Who's he?'

'Crazy-Templar.'

'Great. Anything else this place needs?'

'You're still here? But that always worked before. I close my eyes but you're still here when I open them.' The crazy-Templar looked at us in wonderment.

'Yup,' I bit my lip to stop myself from smirking. 'You're pretty dense aren't you?'

'Nyra!' Wynne admonished me.

'Oh c'mon!' I shot back. 'Why the hell would he imagine me, of the Dwarva, coming to him? Unless it's a Templar thing?' I winked at Alistair who flushed bright red.

'Don't blame me for being cautious,' the man snapped at me. 'The voices… the images… she's so real…'

'Nyra, you know how convincing the fade can be and he's been here for a while, fighting off the demons' lures – what's to say they wouldn't try and trick him with something that he'd be least expecting?'

The old woman had a point, if the fade showed me the last thing I expected to desire, I'd be more ready to believe it than the one thing I really wanted.

'Wait… Cullen?' Alistair asked, stepping towards the young man, stopping any response that I might have made to the old mage.

'Alistair? But you left?' The Templar leaned against his prison, trying to get a better look at his old acquaintance.

'To join the Grey Wardens – this is Cullen,' he explained to me. 'We were trainees in Denerim. Cullen and I were due to take our vows together, before Duncan recruited me, of course.'

'Grey Wardens? Here? Did Greagoir send you? How… how did you get here?' Cullen questioned.

'Kind of,' Alistair told him, looking him up and down. 'How long have you been here?'

'Days, I think.'

'Look,' I interrupted them, hoping that now Alistair had established a rapport with the Templar we might get somewhere. 'I'm here to kill the one who kicked all this off and return the First Enchanter to the Knight-Commander. Where is he?'

'Good – kill Uldred. Kill them all for what they've done.'

'I intend to slaughter all those under Uldred's influence-'

'No!' I jumped in surprise at his response. 'They _all _have to die.' He eyed Wynne suspiciously. 'Irving and the other mages are in the Harrowing Chamber – you don't know what they've become. He's been doing something to them, I can feel it. Something… horrible…'

'That's what I felt,' Alistair confirmed his fellow Templar's words. 'I felt a darkness; something completely overpowering. I felt that my life was being stripped away and something else was being… forced into me.'

'Can you block that out?' I asked concerned. 'I don't want you harmed. Perhaps you should stay here with your friend-?'

'No!' For a second I thought his arms were going to reach out and grasp me, but they stayed at his side, trembling for a moment. 'I mean, I will not leave you to go through this alone – we're the last two Grey Wardens, we're in this together.' I smiled up at him, and nodded. 'I wasn't prepared before, and I should have been. I will be now.'

'Can you do that thing you did when we met Morrigan? I remember her saying something about a wall of resistance, or something, when we were going to Flemeth's the first time.' He nodded and I turned to the others.

'Okay, point me to the Harrowing Chamber and I'll give that bastard what's coming to him.'

'It's this way.' Wynne moved towards a door across the room.

'You have to end it, now before it's too late.' I heard Cullen call across the room. 'To ensure this horror is ended-'

I tuned out the Templar's voice and looked up at Alistair and Sten.

'Ready?'

Sten nodded. Alistair concentrated for a moment before repeating the gesture. My skin prickled as I stood next to him and looked up surprised. 'You're doing that thing?' He nodded. I moved closer to him for a second and felt my skin prickle again. I swallowed, not liking the fact that I could suddenly feel the power that Alistair was using, especially when I was about to face a room full of blood mages and abominations.

'I am ready whenever you are, Wynne,' I said, as she pushed open the door.

o-O-o

I froze as I watched the man they called Uldred turn a mage into an abomination. The mage's skin turned purple, it bubbled and boiled as he screamed, agonising screams, as the one who I assumed was Uldred willed it to change into something he saw as glorious.

As the new abomination fell to the floor, Uldred saw us.

'Ah… look what we have here. An intruder. I bid you welcome. Care to join in our… revels?'

'I take it you're Uldred.' It wasn't a question.

'Oh. Very observant.' He took in my appearance before he burst out laughing. 'I'm actually impressed you're alive – such a little scrap of a thing.'

My skin bristled at his comments and my hands tightened on my blades as I stepped further into the room. I was going to show him how much damage this 'little scrap of a thing' could do.

'Unfortunately,' the deranged mage continued. 'That must mean that you've killed my servants. Ah well,' he shrugged. 'Better off dying in the service of their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence.'

'I'm sorry,' my voice was dripping with sarcasm. 'Are you upset that I killed your lackeys? Were they not everything you expected them to be?'

'Nyra, start the killing already,' Alistair whispered to me as he stepped forward, ready to step in front of me when we attacked.

'You're mad! There's nothing glorious about what you've become, Uldred!' Wynne had carried on the conversation as I planned our attack. Motioning slightly with my head and my hands I manoeuvred Sten and Alistair into position, and moved myself around them.

'Say what you like,' I told him, as I watched Sten make his move towards Uldred's 'pets'. 'I'm still going to kill you.' The shadows wrapped around me and I moved silently towards Sten, as Alistair charged toward Uldred. But our steps faltered as a flash of light crackled around the crazed mage as he turned into a demonic beast.

'Alistair!' I screamed and ran towards him as Uldred rushed forward. The thing was twice the size of the Ogre we had faced in the tower at Ostagar and for all I knew it could use magic as well as its physical strength. Alistair would only be able to resist so much.

Alistair managed to raise his shield in time as Uldred's swing ploughed into him, knocking him straight on his back, his head smacking against the stone of the floor. I ran towards the hulking beast as Wynne blasted him with a sheet of Ice. I blinked quickly, trying to take everything in. I still wasn't used to magic in battles and spells could still make me hesitate for a moment to two. Something that was going to get me seriously hurt one day or, worse, killed.

'It won't hold long,' Wynne called out to me as she pointed towards Sten who was still fighting the three abominations on his own. 'But we might get one of those things down.' I nodded and ran towards the fray as she aided Alistair, her hand cupping the back of his head, healing his wound.

The second abomination fell as Uldred roared from within his ice casing and shattered it.

'Go,' Sten told me as he swiped with his heavy broadsword again. 'I can handle this one alone.'

I turned and ran back towards the beast. Alistair was already up and charging back towards it, his shield raised, but his sword hand empty. I wondered for a moment if the fall had rattled a few nails in his head loose until I saw him thrust his arm forward and the air in front of it rippled across the distance between him and the beast. I stared amazed at the moving air and watched as 'Uldred' flew back as Alistair grabbed his sword and ran towards the monster.

_So _that's _what a Templar does! _ I thought for a second as I finally understood what Alistair had been trying to teach me about Templars. They weren't just warriors as I had first assumed, but weapons as well!

As I finally joined him and took to attacking the arms of the fallen beast trying to distract it, Alistair lunged for its head. With one almighty roar, he plunged his sword deep into the eye of the hellish brute and its body went still.

'Maker, I'm too old for this.' I turned to the voice that had spoken and saw the First Enchanter on his feet, his hands outstretched holding the Litany of Adralla, and I realised that I had forgotten about what Niall had told me and it was sheer luck I had dropped it by the First Enchanter. I was lucky we hadn't all been dominated during that fight – if that's what Uldred had planned on doing.

'Irving!' Wynne cried out, hurrying over to him. 'Are you all right?'

He groaned as he tried to stand upright again. His hands gripped his back as he looked at his old friend and smiled. 'I've been better. But I'm thankful to be alive.' Two younger mages limped over to the First Enchanter, shaking their heads, as if they were unsure as to what was going on.

'The circle owes a debt to you all,' he nodded towards us, smiling slightly. 'Alas, one we will never be able to repay.'

'Oh I don't know about that,' I grinned at Alistair, who gave the beast a final kick to ensure it was dead before he sheathed his sword and joined us.

'First Enchanter.' Alistair bowed deeply to the old man. 'I am sorry to bring this up now, especially after all that has happened. But I am Alistair and this is Nyra, we are Grey Wardens, and are here to seek aid against the Blight.'

'Ah,' the First Enchanter looked the two of us over. 'You're both very young. Where is Duncan?'

I saw Alistair's face fall.

'He was killed at Ostagar,' I told the elderly mage. 'I'm afraid that there is only the two of us left. We must do all that we can to aid the prevention of this Blight before the Wardens from Orlais, and hopefully the Anderfels, arrive. We are calling upon the Humans, the Dwarva, the Dalish and the Magi to fulfil their duties as dictated within the treaties they signed over four centuries ago. When the other Grey Wardens arrive, we will be prepared.'

'Well, you have my word as First Enchanter. The Circle will join you in the fight, but first I'll need you to guide me down the stairs.' He smiled at me like my father had done when I was younger. 'Curse whoever insisted the Circle be housed in a tower. Why not one of those lovely one storey houses I see across the countryside?'

I heard Sten mutter his approval as I led Irving down the steps.

o-O-o

Knight-Commander Greagoir ordered the doors to be opened as he heard us bellow from within that we had the First Enchanter and other survivors.

'Irving?' the Commander questioned as the old mage entered the great entrance to the tower. 'Maker's breath, I did not expect to see you alive.' The old Templar's eyes flickered with relief and something I suspected was more than friendship. I bit my lip to stop the questions that wanted to fall from my lips, remembering who I was here.

'It is over, Greagoir,' Irving gave the Knight-Commander a pat on the shoulder as he leaned upon his staff. 'Uldred is dead and-'

'Uldred tortured these mages hoping to break their will and turn them into abominations. We don't know how many of them have turned,' came the disdainful voice of the crazy-Templar we had rescued.

'Why you little-!' I began, until Alistair nudged me.

'It's not for us to interfere,' he whispered sternly. 'We have their support, that's all we need.'

'And if the Knight-Commander agrees with him he'll kill them in cold blood!' I spat back, looking up to see the First Enchanter wagging his finger in Cullen's face as Commander Greagoir rolled his eyes. As a princess my word was law, here it was interference. I wanted to scream in frustration.

'After everything we did to save all their arses.' I muttered angrily.

'I know,' Alistair's voice was soft, trying to soothe my disdain.

'For all we know another demon was- wait.'

'…he might be a blood mage for all we know!'

'And you might be possessed yourself, Cullen,' I interrupted them.

'What?' The three of them turned to me, Cullen's eyes wide.

'Well think about it, what if during all those visions you were having about … what was it again?' The Templar's face flushed bright red as I revealed to his Commander his weakness. 'Oh yes, _her_… your weakness and shame. I assume you're talking about a female Magi… Is it policy for your Templar's to fancy the Magi?' It was cruel, he had said she was dead, but this man wanted to kill others – others who didn't deserve to die. There was too much death already.

The Knight-Commander choked on an answer as the First Enchanter looked away quickly, and I raised my eyebrow to Alistair.

'Nyra.' Wynne's face was stern, but I could see the twinkle of amusement in her own eyes.

'Well, if after seeing all those tempting visions, you became weak, even for a moment, a demon might have slipped through – we should kill you too, _if_ we slaughter the Magi.' I saw Alistair go tense at my words, but I focused on the young Templar, daring him to try and argue. 'Just to be sure, of course.'

'But…' His head pivoted between me and his Knight-Commander.

'Enough! I am the Knight-Commander here, Cullen, not you.' The Commander turned to me. 'Thank you. You have proven yourself to both the Circle and the Templars. Now that the Circle is restored you may speak to them about the assistance you require.'

'I already have – ensure that they are prepared for our call.' I bowed to him, showing my thanks.

'And First Enchanter,' I turned to the elderly mage who watched me with questions in his eyes. 'I thank you for fulfilling your obligation.'

'Irving,' Wynne spoke, 'I have a request. I seek leave to follow the Grey Wardens.'

'What?' Irving, Alistair and I chorused as one.

'Wynne,' the First Enchanter's voice was soft. 'We need you here. The Circle needs you.'

'I appreciate the sentiment, Irving, but the Circle will do fine without me. The Circle has you.'

'Who says we want you along?' I asked her. I was used to working with a platoon of trained men around me, not babysitting wannabe heroes. I wasn't planning on taking on a whole Blight with just the few of us; I was hoping to have the Orlesian Wardens, at least, join us before we got to Orzammar – I prayed to the Ancestors that they did.

'We have enough people at our sides, and it's hard enough to go unnoticed as it is with our current entourage.' I shook my head at her.

'I can be a great help to you Warden. My talents as a healer may bear you well in your travels.'

I looked at Alistair to try and garner his opinion. He nodded to me slightly.

'Okay,' I heaved in exasperation. 'But I will warn you, Wynne, as I have warned the others. I lead this group – not you. I am open to suggestions, but do not think that because you hold favour here, you will be able to force your will upon us.' The mage nodded and turned and left alongside Sten, who seemed to have a naturally calming effect on the old woman; Alistair and I made to follow, but the Knight-Commander stopped us.

'Alistair,' the Commander spoke. 'Although I thank you for your help in this matter, I have said this once before and this is the last time I will say it. I do not want to see you back here – ever. Do you understand?' Alistair's eyes hardened. He nodded his head once and turned stalking away, following the path of our two companions.

'What did he do?' I finally asked the Commander. The First Enchanter walked away and tended to the youths that had fled with the Templars when the tower had first fallen.

'About four years ago, as part of his training, he attended a Harrowing. The woman took too long to deal with the demon and we were to end her life for fear that she was dominated. Alistair was called upon to do the deed.'

'He told me as much.' My forehead wrinkled in confusion. 'But I don't understand why you wouldn't want him back again.' The Knight-Commander shook his head. 'He's the senior Warden; I need to know if he's going to put us all at risk.'

The Knight-Commander sighed, shaking his slightly. 'He approached her, hesitantly, before he threw his blade down and told us to… what was the colourful language he used? Oh yes, go shaft ourselves on our swords. Lovely.' I frowned; that didn't sound like the Alistair I knew. 'After much kerfuffle, with a sword to his own throat he finally killed her.'

'What?' My eyes widened as I looked at the Commander horrified. He had been _forced_ to murder someone; that would be shocking to even the Dusters of Orzammar. 'How could you do something like that?'

'You don't understand. If it had been up to me, or any other Knight-Commander, we wouldn't have pushed as hard as we did, someone else would have completed the task and he would have been deemed unfit to serve as a Templar; he was never cut out for the life of one. But I had my orders.'

'What orders?'

'That I cannot say. Suffice to say after he carried out his duty, he was… angry.'

'Can you blame him?'

'He went on a rampage through the Apprentice quarters telling them all they were going to die at the hands of the Templars during their Harrowing. It took us months to put things back in order, and as you can see, they've never recovered their trust in us.'

I looked on at the retreating form of my friend as he walked down the corridor towards the exit, and I wondered what other secrets he was hiding.

* * *

_Thanks to Jo who has beta-read all my chapters so far and has really kept me focused. Even now she's all like – Where's chapter 15? Why haven't I had chapter 15 yet? Don't be slacking… alas Uni has made me busier than I thought so chapter 15 is no way near produced, buy I have outlined up to number 21 (for those of you waiting for Gorim… you'll be excited by chapters 20 and 21! Or at least I hope that they'll be worth the wait!_

_For those of you who are wondering where that bit of Alistair's past has come from - I made it up, Artist licence again. I wanted him to have even more of a reason to have hated being a Templar and for not wanting to be King._


	15. Chapter XV: Rain

Chapter 15 – Rain

It was wet and it was cold and I was not a happy camper. I glared out at the rain as the incessant drops continued to drip on to the canvas above my head. Travelling was becoming difficult in the wet month of August as we tried to traverse the woodlands of Bann Loren's lands. Paths that Alistair found on the map I had bought were now streams of mud; shortcuts that Leliana remembered from her own travels were blocked by washed out trees. We had gone around in a full circle one day when path after path was swept away.

I had seen the sky water fall through the Orzammar doors, I had seen it frozen when it fell in fluffy lumps of snow and had felt it when it had frozen solid into ice and was applied to various bruises I had acquired from my training or battles in the Roads. But I had never felt the cold drops against my skin, or had them dribbling into my armour as I walked, making it highly uncomfortable. Finally I hadn't been able to take anymore and told them to find a camping site – one that would still be there in the morning.

The surface was a strange place, far stranger than I had imagined. I had found it hard to come to terms with day and night, the constant changing of light had confused my body at first, and it had taken over a week to adjust to the pattern of sleep being dictated purely on the event of natural light. Now I also had to comprehend seasons, where one day we were sweating in the heat and then next we had rain washing away pathways. I wondered if Gorim had adjusted better to surface life than I had.

'Nyra,' Wynne's voice interrupted my miserable thoughts and I felt my teeth grind together causing an involuntary shudder. The last time I had spoken to her there had been a complete misunderstanding on her part and yet still she had felt she was in the right.

'You're quite taken with one another, aren't you?' she had asked me quietly one evening when I had been forced to spend a short watch with her. Our party was growing, which meant fewer hours on watch, giving us all some much needed rest.

'What? Who?' I asked confused as the woman gave me an irritating all-knowing smile before looking pointedly at Alistair as he climbed out of his tent and stretched as he yawned. I looked at her sceptically as he proceeded to scratch his behind as he padded toward the campfire, accidently kicking a pot on the way.

'I'm surprised the Archdemon hasn't found us yet with Alistair around.' I sighed.

'Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle, but quite inexperienced when it comes to affairs of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt.' She looked down at me, ensuring I got her message.

'Wynne, I have no idea what you're on about. I told you in the fade that there was nothing going on between us. There never has been.'

'That does not mean there will not be. There is great potential for tragedy here, for one or both of you. You're both Grey Wardens, you have responsibilities that supersede your personal desires.'

'Wynne, we are not involved. Plus I can handle my responsibilities and my relationships just fine. In Orzammar-'

'Love is ultimately selfish, Nyra. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish – you may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?'

'For the last time,' I lowered my voice so that Alistair would not hear me threatening the woman who had seemed to have taken on a motherly role to him in camp since she had joined us over a fortnight ago. 'We are _not_ an item. We are _not_ in love. There is _no _Alistair and I. There is just Alistair, and there is just me. And for your information, _grandma_, even if we were involved – which we're _not_ – it would be none of your business. I have dealt with relationships in the past, where danger was ever present with our positions within the army and it worked. So quiet.'

The old mage had sniffed at my words. 'Well I have given my advice – do with it what you will.'

'I'll shove it up your arse if you don't shut it!' I shouted, before turning and storming away. Alistair stared at me with mouth agape as I walked past him to my tent next to his.

'Tell your damn _grandmother_ to get off my back!'

When Alistair had found out what we had been speaking about, he had asked Wynne to come apologise to me after setting her straight about my declining his attentions.

'I am sorry, Nyra, for interfering where there was no need to interfere.'

'Yes… well.'

'However, although there may not be any truth to the situation at present, I want you keep my advice in mind for the future.' And with that the woman had walked off, humming, back to Alistair and Leliana. The sister, at least, shot me a look of apology as Wynne was obviously confirming to Alistair that the apology had been made.

I had thrown my hands up in the air and grabbed Sten to come and spar with me. I needed to beat something senseless for a while – or have something beaten out of me. As it was a good balance of the two was made and both Sten and I limped over to the mage an hour later with blackened eyes and bruised bones.

I could only guess what she wanted now.

'Ah, there you are.' She smiled at me as she ducked into my tent without invitation. 'I was just speaking to Alistair about the Grey Wardens of old and we thought that you might also like to hear about them.'

_You are so going to pay Chantry-boy_, I thought as she settled herself next to me. _Big time._

'What do you know about them?

'They soared through the skies on griffons,' I told her. Although I had revealed to Alistair that the Dwarva, including myself, had honoured many Grey Wardens, I was not about to reveal that to someone who was neither Dwarva nor a Grey Warden. The Grey Wardens did not reveal secrets about themselves to others, even if those others were to fight alongside us.

'Griffons! Alas, that seems to be the only thing people remember from the tales – the mighty flying mounts that bore the Grey Wardens into battle. Alistair said exactly the same thing.'

'Wish I had a griffon,' I muttered into my hand as I rested my chin into its palm as I continued to stare out into the wet rainy forest. 'I'd have had all this treaty nonsense sorted by now and joined the Orlesian Wardens… mind, if there were griffons we'd have had them at our side at Ostagar.'

'Yes well, unfortunately there are no more griffons, so that wish will have to go unfulfilled. I remember a tale told to me, many years ago-'

'Does it have griffons in it?'

'Maker's mercy! It's like talking to a child.'

'Well you're old enough to by my grandmother.' She frowned down at me. 'Well, does it have griffons or not.'

'Yes…' she sighed. 'It has griffons in it. The Blight had ravaged the land for months, and the armies of the great kings had amassed for one last stand. As the sun burst through the clouds that boiled and churned in the dark sky above, it illuminated a vast seething horde of Darkspawn, with the archdemon at its head. And it was then – when courage seemed to fail, and all lost to death and despair – that the Grey Wardens came.

'They arrived with the beatings of wings like mighty war drums, and stood before the armies of men.'

'On the griffons.' I saw the mage's eye twitch and smirked into my hand.

'Yes… the griffons. Now listen to the rest of the story.' She took a steadying breath and I had to stop myself from laughing. 'The Grey Wardens marched forth between the men and the approaching Darkspawn. They formed a shield of their own bodies and held the line until the Archdemon was dead and the last Darkspawn lay trampled in the dirt.

'And then, demanding neither reward nor recognition for their sacrifice, the Grey Wardens departed-'

'This isn't about a specific battle is it?'

'You're observant.'

'No, I'm Dwarva. You see, if that had been the case,' I sat up straight and looked her in the eye, my voice as cold as the weather. 'I wouldn't have lost hundreds of men every year down in the Deep Roads. Instead, life would be good for my people, they wouldn't have to sacrifice their marriage vows, and we wouldn't put pressure on our men to reproduce quickly, to secure family lines and keep our people alive.

'We'd be free to reclaim our lands, our cities and thaigs that _you _people forget about. So _stop_ telling me about my role as a Grey Warden, stop trying to tell me where my focus should be and start doing as your told – which is listening to me.'

'Nyra-'

'_No!_' I stood up and looked down at the woman. 'I told you when you joined us that you listened to me, and since you've been with us, you've not. You've wormed your way into Alistair's affections, preying on the fact that he's never really had a parental figure in his life and you think that because he and I are friends, you can start to try and direct me.' I marched out of the tent, to get away from the woman before I hit her, but she scrambled out after me.

'Alistair doesn't need a mother holding his hand and telling him how to be a Grey Warden, he's a bloody good fighter and an excellent comrade in arms, and I certainly don't need someone telling me how to focus on battle. I was the High Commander of Orzammar – I led and directed _armies, _thousands of men at a time, not a bunch of misfits; I know how to focus on what is important to a cause! I've been focused on killing Darkspawn since I could hold a practice blade, thanks to you humans forgetting about us down there! And I am sick to the back teeth of you thinking that just because I'm smaller than you, you can push me around. Well _no!_ No you can't!'

I flicked my wet fringe out of my face as the rain started to fall harder around me, sticking my white linen shirt to my skin. I saw that the others had come out to see what was going on, but I didn't care. I was so fed up. Nothing was going right. We should have been half way to Denerim by now, half way to Gorim, to someone who understood the depths of what we were fighting for.

The humans had their pretty little stories of how the blights were defeated, but they forgot – they always _bloody _forgot… I wanted to ensure that no one we travelled with or met would forget again. Orzammar and my father might have turned their backs on me, but my ancestors would not. I would ensure that they would embrace me when I fell in battle. I would ensure that Paragon Aeducan, who had raised our family to the rank of royalty, would be proud of me.

Finally, with my fists clenched at my side, my chest heaving with angry breaths as I tried to desperately gain control of my anger, I burst into tears; frustration and anger spilling out in the only way it could when I couldn't punch something.

'Nyra! Are you okay?' Alistair came up to me, sliding his arm around me as I struggled to rein in my emotions. I turned into his embrace willingly, burying my head into his strong chest, grateful for something to hold onto as I fought to hold onto myself. 'Wynne, did you tell Nyra that story? I told you not to! I told you how she feels about the blights and human views of them!'

'What?' I turned to look at the old woman, who refused to meet either of our gazes. 'She said you _both_ thought that I'd like this story.'

'No, no I didn't… Wynne?'

'I just thought-'

'Well stop!' I commanded her, sniffling hard, trying to regain control. 'You're not here to think – you're here to follow. Start doing it or I'm taking you back to the tower.' She closed her mouth quickly, and nodded before gathering her wet muddy robes around her and returning to her tent. I took a deep shaking breath before turning to Alistair.

'Keep her away from me; I swear I will hurt her otherwise.'

'You lied,' came Sten's deep emotionless tone, stopping the words in Alistair's mouth. 'You said you were a captain, now you say you were a… High Commander. Which is it?'

I closed my eyes and cursed myself for the slip of my tongue. When I was angry I was never in total control, Gorim had worked hard to keep my anger levels low so that I was always seen as in control to those who would have cause to see me fail.

'I _was_ a captain in the armies… but I worked my way through the ranks. Three years ago I was made High Commander over the Orzammar armies.'

'What is that?' Leliana asked, still in her tent, unwilling to get wet for no reason.

'The closest rank I can think of is that of Loghain when the rebel army fled through this land.' Alistair stiffened next to me; I sighed as he dropped his arm from around me, disappointed at the loss of his warmth, and removed my own from around him. 'He controlled the entire rebel army, now he has only his own. Like he did then, I controlled the entire army of Orzammar when we battled in the Roads. I gave direction, tactics and ensured that plans were executed precisely. Nothing was executed without my say so.'

'Is that why your punishment was being exiled to the Roads, rather than the surface?' Alistair asked.

'I-'

_What are you doing? _ I cursed myself. _Just tell them the truth._

Alistair frowned as he looked down at me, waiting for my answer. It had been bad enough when he thought that I was good at leading because I was a captain. Now that he knew I was a commander, he was going to expect me to lead in everything and everywhere. If I told him I was also Orzammar's princess, he'd see me as not only the holder of authority, but as someone of power too. He would never come into his own if he did. He'd see it as a duty to also protect me as royalty – exiled or not, on the surface I was still royalty, and that was why Bhelen had petitioned for exile to the Deep Roads. At least that was what I would have done.

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Nyra-'

'No, Alistair, please.' I sniffed again, wiping at my nose furiously, before clearing my throat – it was awfully tickly. He looked over me thoughtfully for a second and I felt like a little girl about to be told off… until his eyes forgot to meet mine again and all thoughtfulness appeared to vanish from his eyes as his tongue swept his lips and his cheeks flushed with colour.

I looked down to see what he was looking at and realised that my shirt had become see-through! If I hadn't taken my breast wrapping off earlier to relax, it wouldn't have been a problem… My cheeks burned as I felt the small buds of my nipples tighten as his gaze lingered upon them.

'I'm up here, Alistair!' I snapped, placing my hands on my hips, refusing to allow him to see me embarrassed by such a reaction. His cheeks burned brightly as he raised his head, his eyes met mine for only the briefest moment before he muttered his apology and dived towards his tent.

I shook my head in frustration and turned to go back to my own tent. Before I could open the flap my mouth and nose seemed to explode as a force of air shot through them both.

'What the hell-!' another explosion occurred. I shook my head to clear it.

'Bless you,' Leliana offered.

'What?'

'Bless you – it's what you say after someone sneezes.'

'After somebody… What?'

'Sneezes. You know – a sneeze.' Alistair, who had been climbing into his own tent stopped and looked over at me. 'You have sneezed before, right?' I looked between the two of them, who shared equal expressions of bewilderment and astonishment as I shook my head.

'Is that why my nose is leaking too?'

'It sounds like you have a little cold,' Leliana explained.

'I have no idea what that is, but I'm going to sleep – I feel exhausted.' 

o-O-o 

It was two days before the sun reappeared and we were able to move onwards again and by that time I felt awful. I was burning up all over, my head throbbed like I had downed a whole bottle of Frostback Blend – Tapsters own-label whisky – and I was constantly sniffling. Morrigan shoved potion after potion down my throat as we marched onward, whilst she pressed her hand to my forehead to check my temperature. Alistair insisted on carrying my pack as well as his as we slowly travelled on through the mud-soaked forest, slipping and sliding as we went.

Alistair found struggling with the two packs less of a burden as he found watching Morrigan and me bickering over the potions most amusing – although the novelty quickly wore off after we almost alerted a search party to our presence. We hunkered down into the undergrowth hoping that our packs would not give us away as we watched them move on.

'Their uniforms belong to Bann Loren,' Alistair whispered into my ear, his breath tickling its shell. 'If they get wind of us here, Loghain will certainly hear about it.'

'Right then,' I sniffed, 'they best not get wind of us.'

Leliana and I slithered through the undergrowth towards where the men had stopped and gathered; they appeared to have found what they were looking for. Or more a case of _who _they were looking for. I saw a man amidst them, dressed in dirty, tattered and unkempt clothing.

'He has been a prisoner,' Leliana whispered to me. I nodded my agreement; I could see the bruises on his wrists where he had been previously bound. It was then that I caught sight of the emblem across his chest…

'He's one of Cailan's honour guards,' I whispered back.

'But I thought they all died with the King on the field?'

'There's only four ways of leaving a battle; victory – which we know wasn't the case – rescue, betrayal or desertion. Looking at the marks on his wrist, I'd wager it was the last.'

'Oui.'

'I swear!' I heard the man cry out before one of the guards thrust a blade, we hadn't seen, into his stomach. The man slumped to the floor, grasping at his stomach as he grasped for breath.

'Dammit,' I hissed, as I turned to the others, motioning to prepare for attack. I nodded to Leliana and we both slipped into the shadows. I crept up around the guard on the left, whilst my stealthy companion found the one on the far right; in perfect unison we struck.

A spray of crimson filled the air as Leliana slit the man's throat before spinning around and taking stance, as I plunged my blades into the kidneys of the biggest fellow; both fell to their knees before toppling to the ground.

As the shadows slipped from us, Alistair and Sten charged forward, surprising the remaining few guards. Smashing the face of one with his shield, I watched Alistair swing his heavy sword effortlessly towards the other, as Sten forced his massive blade into his surprised victim. Streaks of purple and blue filled the air as Morrigan and Wynne shot their spells from the relative safety of their position, paralysing another as he charged towards me. I slipped under his outstretched hand, and moved towards the skirmish Alistair and Sten were fighting.

As the last man fell I turned my attention to who they had been chasing.

'Thank you,' I heard him mutter as Leliana rested his head upon her lap, muttering the Chant of Light quietly as Wynne checked his wound. 'I… didn't expect the Bann's men to notice my escape so quickly. I tried to hide here in the woods, but there wasn't time… now I'm a dead man.' He winced as Wynne pressed her fingers to his wound; her eyes closed, as if she was listening to something far off in the distance.

'What do you mean there wasn't time?' Morrigan questioned him.

'You were at Ostagar right?' I asked him as I knelt at his side. 'Are there others? Did Cailan…?' For the briefest moment I had hope that if this man had been taken prisoner by Loghain, perhaps there were others… perhaps Cailan lived, captured in a dungeon somewhere.

'It's you!' he exclaimed, grasping my arm and pulling me near him as he shook his head. 'You were there – you know how things went.'

'Dammit,' I cursed again. 'You weren't taken – you deserted, didn't you.'

'I daresay,' Alistair drawled behind me as he searched for bandages within his backpack. 'Most people think the same of you and me – if not worse.'

'But-'

'I fled the battlefield,' he winced again as Wynne's fingers moved over him. 'When Loghain betrayed us, I abandoned my men and they died, and Cailan with them.'

'No,' I breathed, my body sinking back in defeat. For a second there had been hope…

'He was my king, my friend; Maker, all that time in Bann Loren's prison and I… I couldn't stop thinking about that one night... But I've been given a chance… to set things right.'

I caught Wynne's eye for a moment, she shook her head sadly, there was nothing she could do – she was no Flemeth, I surmised. Circle Magi were obviously not as strong as Apostates – limited by the Chantry on their magics.

'I'm sorry,' I told him. 'We don't always get to choose our deaths…'

'If it's the likes of you who sees me to my final hour, perhaps things happen for a reason. The king, he entrusted me with the key to the royal arms chest, if anything were to happen to it, he said it was vital that I deliver it to you… or him.' He nodded to Alistair behind me. I turned and frowned at my fellow Warden as he refused to meet my gaze.

'Where is it?' I asked turning back to the man, eyes still on Alistair. 'Does the Bann still have it?'

'No. If I had kept it he would have… the Maker has a funny sense of humour doesn't he?'

'You lost it?' I asked sighing. _Typical._

'Why am I not surprised?' Alistair's voice echoed my own thoughts.

'Careless fool!' Morrigan admonished him.

'I was afraid,' the guard protested. 'I thought I would lose it on the battle field, so I stashed it… in the camp.' Alistair groaned, I rolled my eyes and Sten grunted. 'Please!' he begged. 'It's probably still there! It's behind a lose stone in the base of a statue – no one would even know it was there. I'll draw you a map so you'll know where to search.'

'You'll be taking me along won't you – and Wynne too. Call me sentimental, but we left behind some Darkspawn that really deserve a drubbing.' Alistair's hand clenched tightly on the hilt of his blade as he spoke, before thrusting it back in its sheath.

I rubbed my forehead as another wave of tiredness and exhaustion hit me; this was crazy – going back to Ostagar, with the Darkspawn threat lurking. We had no idea what had even gone on after we had been rescued – or even a clear idea of where the beasts were now. We didn't even know for sure if Lothering had fallen, it was only what we had dreamt.

'It is _vital_,' the man continued. 'That the king's documents do not fall into the wrong hands – or Maric's sword.' That caught my attention. Cailan had been wielding his father's sword the night of battle, following his father's pledge that it would stop the Archdemon – although it had not been completed again. There was no way I was leaving that blade to those monsters!

'They won't keep the sword – I promise,' I told him. 'As for the documents, I'll see what I can do.'

'Here,' he passed the hastily drawn map into my shaking hands. I tucked the parchment away quickly, hoping no one saw my tremble. 'And if you happen to find Cailan's… body, see it off.' His eyes lingered on Alistair and again I turned to look at him. He returned the man's gaze, as if conveying a silent message to him.

'We will,' Alistair told him. 'He shouldn't be left to rot amidst the filth they bring – he was our king.' 

o-O-o 

I watched him as we walked through the forest, his mind far away from where we were. His shoulders slumped in defeat as if the confirmation of Cailan's death had sealed his own fate. I frowned at the thought. I had not noticed before but the two of them shared a number of similarities, although many of the men at the camp had been blond with dark eyes, and with similar builds to both Alistair and Cailan, the two shared similarities beyond that – their noses and their mouths were similar, how had I not seen that before?

Alistair had said he had been raised by a noble; however he had said his father was a Knight, perhaps the Knight himself was a distant royal, related to the crown through an illegitimate source? Being Dwarva I knew of many illegitimate noble-men's daughters roaming the commons in lesser classes, cast aside due to their sex. I shook my head, trying not to laugh as I thought of Alistair as a contender to the throne.

'I do not know what passed between him and that man back there, but I do not like it,' Morrigan confided in me as we settled into camp for the night. 'He is distant and clumsier than usual; he is going to make a mistake if he does not focus. He will get us all killed – that is if one of us doesn't kill him first.'

'Don't you always want to kill him?' I chuckled. 'You threaten to constantly.'

'Perhaps,' she sniffed as she handed me another potion and checked my temperature. 'But that is because it keeps him in place – a man should always know his place. He is no one of concern, but he could cause problems to our cause.'

I rubbed my temples, trying to relieve some of the pain that was pounding behind them as a headache that had been threatening to overtake me all day reminded me that it was there.

'Morrigan, Alistair is someone "of concern". He is a Grey Warden, the senior Grey Warden, he needs to appear in charge, I can't do this on my own – I need him to believe in himself and take control when we speak to people. Directing armies, yes, discussing military matters to people in power, no problem, speaking to everyday people, _not_ my strong point – I had a second who used to do that for me.' I avoided adding that I was spectacular when it came to politics, I had already revealed far more than I had anticipated so early in our travels.

'A Second?' her voice held an edge to it, one that I did not understand. 'I see little use for your dwarven tradition of Seconds-'

'Would you not like someone to always be there for you, watching over you, ensuring that no harm came to you? Wouldn't it be comforting to know that you always had a friend around, someone to trust and be able to talk to?'

'I…'

'Growing up in the Wilds must have been lonely for you to not value that – did you not have any friends?'

'I have told you before – I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds.'

'But they're not people – who did you speak to?'

'If I spoke at all, 'twas to the trees; I do not understand what you are asking.'

'Did they speak back?' I asked looking around at the great trunks surrounding us. 'Do trees speak?'

'Don't be foolish!' she snapped. 'I recall the first time I crept beyond the edge of the Wilds. I did so in animal form, remaining in the shadows and watching these strange townsfolk from afar. I happened upon a noblewoman by her carriage, adorned in sparkling garments the likes of which I had never before seen. I was dazzled. This, to me, seemed what true wealth and beauty must be.

'I snuck up behind her and stole a hand mirror from the carriage. 'Twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones and I hugged it to my chest with delight as I sped back to the wilds.'

'You stole it?'

'I saw what I desired,' the witch sniffed haughtily, 'and I took it. Such a concept did not even exist with me. Flemeth was furious with me. I was a child and had not yet come into my full power, and I had risked discovery for the sake of a pretty bauble. To teach me a lesson, Flemeth took the mirror and smashed it upon the ground. I was heartbroken.'

'But you were just a kid!'

'And a foolish one.' She frowned for a moment in thought. 'Flemeth was right to break me of my fascination. Beauty and love are fleeting and have no meaning. Survival has meaning. Power has meaning. Without those lessons, I would not be here today, difficult as they may have been.'

'They made you stronger, didn't they?' I asked quietly.

'They did indeed. At times I wonder what might have been… but they are silly fantasies.'

I looked at my companion for a second and saw for the first time the weight she was carrying.

'What do you get from all this Morrigan?' I asked her. 'Flemeth made you come with us, you didn't choose to.'

'Who said I did not?' I shrugged and began to root around in my bag, searching for another shirt to wear; I hoped that soon we would find a river or stream to wash in – my clothes were beginning to smell, especially as I was sweltering within them more and more each day as my temperature climbed.

'My throat hurts,' I moaned as I pulled a shirt from the bottom of my bag, the damn thing was under something.

'I have something for that… the green- what is that?' The witch's hand froze over the vial she was about to pluck from her collection, as her golden eyes flashed with desire upon the large black tome I pulled from my bag.

'This? I don't know – I found it in an office back in the Circle's tower. I meant to ask you if it was any use to you. It was locked away in a cupboard I broke into.' She grabbed the book from my hands and turned its pages; a slight tremor in her hand gave away her emotions as her face returned to its usual blank canvas.

'This is… this _is_ Flemeth's grimoire! Ever since we discovered the condition of the Circle, I had wondered… How fortunate…' Quickly her eyes scanned its pages, the vial she had been searching for me forgotten.

'Morrigan?'

'Hmmm?'

'Never mind.' 

o-O-o 

The rain woke me later in the night. I was not expected on watch under both Morrigan and Wynne's orders for me to rest when I could in my current state. Why humans called this a cold, when I was burning hot, I had no idea. I kicked the blankets from me as I tugged at my sleeping shirt; perhaps sleeping naked would make more sense?

As I tried to pull the shirt from over my head a booming noise shattered the peace of the night and rumbled around me causing me to yelp in surprise. 'We're under attack!' I shouted running from the tent, trying to pull my shirt back down, as a streak of light flashed through the sky. Screaming in fright as a bolt of the light cracked again and speared the ground just feet from where I stood, I turned and smashed into the strong, hard frame of Alistair.

'Nyra!' Alistair grabbed me quickly, holding me steady. 'What are you shouting about? It's just a thunderstorm.'

'A _what_?' I shouted as another rumble echoed through the night, it sounded as if it was rolling down the hills around us, upturning trees in its path.

'A thunderstorm.' Leliana squinted at me as she climbed out of her tent. 'Have you not experienced one before?' I shook my head quickly, my eyes wide with fright. Was this what the end of the world was really like?

'She is right to be frightened,' Morrigan drawled from behind me. 'The trees here are dried out from the summer, the rain has not yet permeated them to make them come to life again; should the lightning strike them, they will alight and burn around us. I whimpered and tightened my arms around Alistair, who held me closer to him, rubbing my back gently.

'We must find a clearing,' Sten shouted across the camp, above the sound of the sheets of rain that drenched us where we stood.

'Yes,' Wynne nodded her agreement with the giant. 'Once in a clearing Morrigan and I can cast a shield, we will be safe… and dry.'

I sneezed as I tried to nod. 'Leave everything – let's find somewhere quickly.'

'We are not far from the highway,' Morrigan shouted as another flash of light pierced the air. 'I saw it when I circled the perimeter earlier.'

We made it to the highway quickly, hoping that the weather would cause those whom travelled at night to stop and take cover of their own. Wynne explained the spell to Morrigan and they wasted no time in erecting the barrier above us. The flickering blue light shimmered slightly above Sten's head height as we sat beneath it watching the rain bounce on it before running off the edges in cascading waterfalls.

'It's pretty,' I muttered, 'when you're not actually sitting in it. Why haven't they done this before?'

'Because it takes too much power,' Alistair said as he crawled over to me and sat himself down at my side. Sten grunted and moved away slightly, causing a halt to our conversation. 'They have to channel the spell in order to maintain it; imagine them doing that every time it rains?'

'They'd be exhausted.' I sniffed again, wiping my nose on my sleeve without thinking. As I pulled the sleeve away I realised what I had done and looked horrified towards him, my cheeks flaming red.

He chuckled. 'Don't worry; I do that all the time.' I frowned at him, as I realised I had been spending far too much time around him if my manners were starting to mimic his. 'Morrigan said that her potions aren't working on your cold. She sent me over here to… ummm.' His own cheeks filled with colour. 'She said that you need to be kept warm. She told me to make sure that you're warm.'

'I'm wet.' I told him flatly.

'I.. err!' he cleared his throat as I frowned. 'I know me too.' He shook his head rapidly, flinging drops of water all over me, just like Bert did after jumping in a pond.

'Stop that!' Sten snapped as he turned to face us.

'Sorry!' Alistair held up his hands in apology. Sten grunted, turning back to watching the rain and the lightning streaking the sky, whilst Leliana lay curled up next to Bert to stay warm herself. Alistair's arm slid around me slowly; 'I'm just following orders,' he whispered, more to himself than to me. 'And being… a good _friend._'

Too tired to comment, too exhausted to think why it wasn't a good idea to be so familiar with a friend, a friend who had expressed feelings towards me, who wore his heart on his sleeve for the world to see, I curled into his warm embrace, my arms wrapping around him as he settled back against the dirt and pulled me into him.

I caught the mages staring at us as I closed my eyes; I was too tired to care why Wynne was frowning and Morrigan looked triumphant.


	16. Chapter XVI: Merchant Banker

Chapter 16 – Merchant Banker

The sun glinted on the blade as I approached the back of the broken cart, catching my eye and drawing me to it. _No, it can't be,_ I thought shakily as my eyes ran over the hilt, seeing the inscription cut into the intricately designed metal. _I'm that feverish I'm hallucinating… that's what it is, it's a mirage; it's not real._

'Bodahn Feddic's the name, this 'ere's my boy, Sandal. Say 'hello', Sandal,' the friendly dwarven merchant greeted us as he stood from fixing the wheel of his wagon. 'I see you've noticed my fine selection of goods; I offer a fair deal should you be interested.'

'That's a nice sword,' Alistair commented as he picked up the weapon that had caught my attention and held it out for inspection. The balance was perfect, the blade as sharp as it had been the day it had been cast, and the gem that adorned the bottom of the hilt still sparkled with the fire caught within.

_It _is_ his sword._

Alistair looked at the hilt, his fingers tracing the strange script that was engraved upon it. 'What do these words say?'

'"To protect yourself, as you protect me",' I said without glancing at the lettering. 'It's the language of my people.'

Alistair took a step back and prepared to swing the blade to test its arc and movement, but Leliana put her hand upon his arm, stilling him, nodding towards me. He looked my way and made to say something, when I spoke.

'Where did you get this from?' My voice was but a whisper as I looked to the merchant whose face had lost its cheery smile as his eyes took me in. Recognition dawned upon him as fear filled his eyes and he moved to kneel before me. I shook my head, my jaw hardening as my fingers reached for my own blades. The merchant looked torn between what he knew he should do and what I was asking.

'Tell me,' I commanded, 'where you got that blade, how you got it and when you got it. Now.'

'A-a young man of the Dwarva sold it to me just outside of Denerim a few days ago,' Bodahn explained. 'He said he had to let it go, he needed the money for his new life… or something, so I offered him a good-' I unsheathed my daggers; 'I mean a pittance of its value to him for it. He accepted.' The merchant's son whined at the sight of my weapons. 'It's okay, Sandal, son, the lady won't hurt your pa.'

'I am taking that blade and I am going to return it to his hand,' I barked, ignoring the worried eyes of Sandal. 'You know who I am, so do not try and stop me. Surely you knew who he was.' It was not a question, and the look in Bodahn's eyes gave me the answer. 'I thought as much. If you were in Orzammar I'd string you up! However, leaving you out of pocket for it will have to suffice.'

'Nyra.' Alistair placed his large hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me.

'Don't, Alistair,' I warned him as I shrugged it off, refusing to look at anyone but Bodahn. I had heard of him and his strange family years before, escaping from Orzammar after being arrested for pilfering the Deep Roads for profit. It turned my stomach thinking of my men still lying deep within them, being picked clean by profiteers and treasure hunters. 'This is a matter of honour.'

'Nyra, this is not the way we do things in Ferelden-'

'Good job he's of the Dwarva then,' I snarled into the merchant's face. 'Although I am ashamed that he is.'

Taking the blade from Alistair's grasp, I looked at it longingly, a thousand memories flying through my mind, as my hands cradled it.

_Desperate,_ I thought. _He had to be desperate for him to give this up. A warrior would never part with his weapon. He would never part with this. Unless…_

Sword in hand I turned back to the merchant and his son.

'Honour dealt with – for now – let me see what goods you have.'

o-O-o

The rain had started again after another warm day as we pressed onwards to Denerim. My stomach twisted into a thousand knots as I thought of seeing my heart again, especially as I no longer knew what his reaction would be to my return. Over a week away, Alistair had told me as we had left Bodahn and his son – once the Chantry-boy had helped him fix the wheel of the cart.

I glared at the lot of them marching ahead of me. I was struggling to maintain my pace, my legs failing to march as quickly as I had been since we had set out on this stupid and overwhelming task of uniting an army in this torn country. My body ached, my throat was raw, my skin burned and I felt utterly exhausted. Every muscle screamed as I moved and pressed on.

_I can rest when the Ancestors take me, _I thought. How many times had my father said those words to me when I had told him he needed to stop for the evening and go to bed? My throat closed over in a sudden rush of emotion. I missed him; I missed him telling me about his day, I missed listening to his stories about my mother and I missed his bear hugs when life wasn't going the way I planned.

I also missed my brother, Trian – Bhelen could go boil his head. For years Trian and I had argued like nig and nug, he had been thirteen years older than me, and it had been hard for him to accept a sibling at such an age; his crown possibly up for rivalry after being raised with it assured. But I had never wanted it; I was happiest in the thick of things, being a fighter, a leader of armies even, not stuck behind a desk, solving the problems of nobles and pandering to the wants of the Deshyrs, although I was more than capable. But Trian hadn't realised that, not for many years at least. It was only when Gorim…

_Why? _My mind begged the question. _Why have you done this, my heart? Did I mean so little to you? Is money worth more to you than I am?_

_No! _Another part of me screamed. _No, there is something more, he would never hurt you. He would never cast you aside at the first sign of coin and profit. _

As much as my mind argued with itself, there was only one person who could answer that for me, and it would take us just over a week for me to get my answer – that was if I could even find him in Denerim; it didn't appear that he was waiting for me anymore.

I bit back the sting of tears that threatened my eyes as the cord holding Gorim's sword to my back dug into my shoulder and I had to shift it again – I had forgotten how heavy it was, but I refused to allow any of the others to carry it. Alistair had eyed the blade enviously – causing my blood to boil – whilst Leliana and Wynne looked at it more curiously. Morrigan seemed to be more than happy that I had acquired it, satisfied almost.

The woman was a puzzle to me, sometimes she looked as if she knew what was around the corner and at other times it was as if the silliest thing was a huge error. At that moment she was surprising me; conversing with Wynne and Leliana in whispered tones and throwing glances back to me. She did, however, throw a frown or two towards Alistair, until he decided to drop back and slowed his step to mine, when she gave one of her little smug smirks for a brief moment thinking no one was watching.

I gritted my teeth in frustration as I felt his eyes skim the sword again.

'Something I can do for you, Alistair?' I bit.

'Just thought you might like some company.'

'I'm fine, thanks.' I wiped at the sweat that beaded my brow.

'Nyra-'

'I'm not discussing it, so go back to the cronies and tell them you got nothing.' I shrugged the sword again, trying to find a comfortable place for it to rest. Alistair sighed heavily.

'Just let me carry the damn thing – I promise not to use it.'

'No.' I stopped and glared up at him. 'It's got nothing to do with you. It's my burden, I'll shoulder it.'

'Fine.' He folded his arms and glared down at me. 'I tried to be nice, I know you're not well, but you're acting like a spoilt child. For someone who professes to be such a great leader, you're being awfully pathetic with your attitude at the moment.' He looked towards the receding backs of the girls ahead, Sten's head bobbing in front of them. Bert whined and looked up between us. 'When you're ready to start acting like a grown-up again, you can come and join us. Stealing a sword from a merchant…'

He shook his head and began to make his way back to the others whilst I stared at him opened mouthed. He looked back over his shoulder and whistled, Bert's ears pricked. 'C'mon, boy, let's leave her to her grumpiness.'

Bert looked up at me and whined before looking back to Alistair. He barked happily and trotted off to join him, dancing around his legs as Alistair fussed over him. Alistair cast me one last disappointed look before he carried on playing with the dog.

I pulled the damn thing over my head and threw it down in frustration.

'Why?' I shouted furiously at the sword, kicking it a few times for good measure. 'Why?'

I watched as the small group continued down the road and disappeared through the trees.

'How could you, Gorim?' I whispered. 'How _could_ you?'

o-O-o

It was some time later that Alistair found me sitting at the side of the road, just where he had left me. My eyes were puffy from crying and my cheeks flushed with colour – although if that was due to my tears or my fever it was unclear.

'Still mad?' he asked as he lowered himself down next to me, a long sigh escaping him as he rested himself against a tree. He looked at the sword lying in the middle of the road, the diamond in the bottom of the hilt catching the late afternoon sun.

When I said nothing, he continued; 'We've been waiting for you, but I told the others to go on ahead. Morrigan wanted to come with me, but I didn't think the two of us arguing would've helped your mood much if I had let her.' I grunted at him, not able to trust my voice. 'I told them that there was a village a few miles ahead – we'll stay at an inn this evening. I thought maybe a hot bath would make you feel a little better.

'C'mon, Nyra,' he pleaded with me when I still refused to speak, his face lined with worry. 'Talk to me. Who does the sword belong to?'

I felt my throat close up again, and tears threaten to fall at just the thought of Gorim. Why hadn't Leliana come and got me? Even Sten, or Wynne, might have made this easier. But Alistair?

Of course I knew why he had come over. As much as he knew I could offer him no more than friendship, it hadn't stopped him looking at me longingly when he thought I wasn't looking. Of course, I had only noticed because I had been looking myself. There was something about him that just drew me towards him. When we weren't speaking, I felt at a loss; when he paid Leliana more attention than he paid me, I grew jealous, and when Wynne had brought up the idea of there being something between us I was more angry at the fact that I couldn't let there be than at her poking her nose in, I had finally confessed to myself.

But it was all just too much; the Blight, the group, the surface, and I still hadn't allowed myself to dwell on my own situation, my exile, losing my big brother, my father turning his back on me, and now there was Gorim to add to the pot. The one person I had always believed would be there for me had probably given me up for dead – if not worse, he had stopped loving me.

Promises to love and wait forever for someone were easy when said person was a constant in your life, but when they were gone, when left on your own; your heart yearns for love again. My own heart yearned for that right now. Longing, betrayal, separation; it was battered and bruised and needed the tender loving care that Alistair wanted to give it.

I sighed as I finally took my eyes away from the sword and looked up at him. How could I explain all this to him?

_Well for the past seven years I've been seeing this guy, I thought he was amazing and was planning on bringing him along with us when we got to Denerim – I know it would have looked like I was rubbing your face in my happiness, but what can I say, I love him… but that's not going to happen because he's cast me off… so why don't I have you instead?_

No, Alistair deserved more; he had been at my side since Ostagar, fought beside me and was helping me to adapt to life as a Grey Warden and to life upon the surface. He had helped to nurse me back to life when he could have left and returned to the Arl of Redcliff and aided him in uniting the country against the Blight, and Loghain. And even when he had been struggling with his own problems, stretching our tentative friendship to its then limits, he had held my hand and called me, repeatedly, from horrific nightmares.

Although he always had a smile and a joke to share, to cheer me when I needed it, he'd cried on my shoulder and bore his own grief to me, and shown me a side that most men tried to hide – their vulnerable one. He had opened up to me at my urging, allowing me to offer my hand of friendship and he had accepted; was I to refuse him?

'I…'

His amber eyes met mine and my breath stopped as finally it dawned on me.

He's_ my Second up here._

Somehow, without realising it, I had allowed this human to form the most sacred connection a Dwarva could form. It wasn't supposed to work like that. Seconds didn't just happen with someone you didn't know; Seconds where chosen by fathers for their children, from families that had severed them well, had a history that would complement their own.

It was an honour to be chosen as a Second; they trained beside you, until your blades moved as one, each swing anticipated as they knew your fight better than you knew it. They became your right hand, someone who would defend you to their death, they would die beside you rather than leave you; Gorim had been denied that right when I had been sent to the Roads, sullying our relationship as that of First and Second. Was that why I was drawn to another; because he had not fought harder for his right to die fighting beside me? Had a part of me known then that his promises were never going to be kept? Was that why I had allowed Alistair to take on this revered position?

'I – It… was, _is_, my Second's sword,' I managed to choke out. 'I had it commissioned when I was promoted to my rank of High Commander. Commissioning a sword for your Second bonds you; the sword can never be bought by another, only cast aside upon the First's death. That's why I took it back. Bodahn knew that he shouldn't have purchased it.'

'It is a nice weapon. Your Second must have… been held in high regard?'

'He was. They always are.'

'Ah, he's a _he_.'

'Yes,' I whispered. My eyes glazed again as tears threatened to fall, I tore my eyes from his gentle understanding orbs and focused on the sword, unable to trust myself as my emotions tumbled inside of me.

_You will _not_ use him as a prop,_ I told myself. _He will not be your rebound, he deserves more and so do you – you deserve to have someone who will never give up on you, just as you wouldn't give up on them. _

'But he was more than that though, wasn't he?' I heard Alistair's voice shake as he asked me the question and I turned to look at him; his own gaze was fixed on the sword.

'He was my lover,' I managed. 'Almost eight years we were together. When I gave him the sword he _swore_ that he would never part with it until the day that either he or I fell. If he didn't think I fell in the Roads, he must surely think I fell with the other Wardens at Ostagar.' The tears I had been holding back finally slipped down my cheeks. 'I know we're on the surface, but I didn't think he would just _sell_ the sword, I thought… perhaps…' I buried my face in my hands as I wept again at the thought of how casually he had cast off the blade for coin at the thought of my death. I felt Alistair slip his warm arm around me and I turned and buried my face into his chest, allowing him to hold me as I expelled my grief. 'Am I worth so little?' I hiccupped.

'No,' Alistair hissed, tightening his hold upon me. 'Nyra I haven't known you long, it's been what? Three? Three and a half months? And I can honestly say that I'd be lost without you. Okay, you're a bit bossy, and you like things done your way… oh! And you're scary when you're angry. But you're also patient; I mean you put up with Morrigan and me fighting all the time, you spend time with each of us trying to get to know us, and you're a brilliant fighter and tactician. Back in the tower some of those things we fought – you hadn't even seen demons before, but you found their weaknesses quickly and you brought us all out alive.

'You're brilliant, Nyra.' He pulled away from me so that he could look me in the eye. 'Whoever your Second is, wherever he is, there's no way he's happy without you – I know that I wouldn't be.'

'Oh,' I whispered softly. I made to speak further, but his fingers pressed against my lips.

'No,' his voice was husky, but shaking with nerves. 'Let me speak, lest I never have the courage again. Do you know what this is?' He picked up a red plant that I hadn't noticed at his side. I shook my head; although Leliana and Morrigan had been trying to introduce me to the surface vegetation, I had not come across anything as pretty as what he held before me now. Its colour was deep red, and its petals looked soft and delicate. It was beautiful. It reminded me of him.

'It's a rose,' he told me. 'I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, "How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?" I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The Darkspawn taint would come along and destroy it. So I've had it ever since.' He frowned for a second. 'I don't know how it's lasted so long – they normally die within a few days of picking them, but this one…'

'What are you planning on doing with it?' I whispered mesmerised by the rose's beauty and the words he spoke.

'I thought I might… give it to you.' He opened my small hand and pressed the flower into it. 'In a lot of ways I think the same thing when I look at you.'

'What,' I tried to break the spell in panic as his head dipped towards me. 'That you didn't think I'd last so long on the surface?' He paused before chuckling.

'No,' his voice becoming serious again. 'All the other stuff.'

'I… Thank you.' I swallowed as my mouth had suddenly become dry. This was something new, something I hadn't experienced before. With Cailan I had been infatuated by good looks and promises of a potential new life, Gorim had captured my heart with dedication, trust, and friendship, but Alistair was _wooing_ me. I had never been wooed. Nobles had tried it and failed miserably, but this… I looked at the rose as I tried to stop my spinning head and calm my flipping stomach.

'I'm glad you like it. I just wanted to tell you, what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness. Now,' his face broke into his goofy grin, one that he knew I couldn't help but return. 'If we could just move on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it.' He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

'I bet you would,' I winked. 'Alright, off with the armour then.'

It was good to hear him burst into laughter. 'Bluff called. Damn, she saw right through me!'

'You're cute when you're bashful,' I told him as he stood up.

'Come on,' he grinned as he offered me his hand.

I brushed myself off as he moved and grabbed the sword from the highway, the sword I had completely forgotten about for those moments when he'd looked at me. I looked down at the rose and caressed its velvety petals. I understood swords not plants, and yet this one little flower had affected me more than all the swords that I had ever held.

'I get the inscription now,' Alistair's rich voice interrupted my musings. 'I guess that once there wasn't a need to protect you, there was no need for the sword.' He looked over at me. 'But if it was me, I wouldn't have given up on you so easily.'

o-O-o

The rain had started to fall in sheets again as Alistair and I marched onwards trying to catch up with the others. Alistair had slowed his pace to match my own struggling one; even with him now carrying Gorim's sword I was finding it difficult to maintain our regular tempo. The mountains above us spilled mud and debris over the cobbled highway adding to our problems, causing us to slip and slide should we step wrong.

'Oh this is bad,' Alistair said as we approached what I assumed _had _been the road at some point; now it seemed as if the road ended in the mountain itself, rocks and mud spilt over the highway and down into the gulley below. There was no way around it.

'I had hoped this wouldn't happen, at least not before we had passed. This area is notorious for rock falls and mudslides at this time of year.'

'Was this the only way to the village?' I asked him, cursing as he nodded. 'Is there no other way?'

'South across the bannorn, but I wouldn't suggest the two of us walking openly through there.' I nodded in agreement; it was dangerous enough walking the highways openly. 'We either go back to Kinloch Hold and go south, then using the West Road we'd get to Denerim, but I wouldn't advise it with Lothering falling to the Darkspawn and it would take weeks. Or we go north around Highever and towards Amaranthine – but I heard rumours back at the Spoiled Princess that Highever had been overtaken by Loghain's men. Teyrn Cousland was very loyal to King Cailan. Again that will take us a few weeks – either way the others are going to think we've either abandoned them or… well what else is there to think?'

'Sodding Nughumpers!' I kicked at the already unstable mountain face and jumped when a number of rocks shifted slightly.

'Careful!' Alistair admonished me as he yanked me back, preparing for more rocks to fall. I thought nothing of his arms around me as I stared at the cliff face.

'Alistair, give me a hand.' I batted his arms away and moved to the rock, running my hands over the face and feeling where it wasn't solid stone. 'This is blocked up, and it's been done by hand.'

'That doesn't sound good,' he muttered as he ran his hands higher than mine could reach, feeling the contour of the rock. 'How can you tell?'

'I'm Dwarva, Alistair; I'm connected to the stone. As much as they like to say that connection stops when we leave Orzammar it doesn't – Duncan taught me that.'

'Really?' he looked down at me, surprise in his face. 'I… I didn't realise you had been able to… but of course, you travelled to Ostagar for a time-'

'There.' I pointed to where his hand was. 'Pull there, that's the keystone, it's what's keeping it up. After three… remember to move quickly. One, two, three!'

We dived out the way as the rocks tumbled from the mountain's side to reveal the entrance of a short passageway that seemed to lead to a clearing on the other side of the mountain. 'Makers breath,' Alistair breathed as we climbed up off the floor. 'I wasn't expecting that.'

I grinned as I dusted myself off and stepped over the rocks in to the tunnel. 'No wonder this mountain has rock slides… it's been made by hand.'

'What?'

'It's not a real mountain, not as the stone made anyway; hands built all this.' Alistair looked up, his mouth open.

'No, that's not possible. It's too big.'

'Will you share the same opinion, I wonder, when you see Orzammar?' I asked, stepping inside the mouth of the passageway.'

'Wait – what are you doing?'

'Don't you want to know where it goes to?'

'I think I could live a happy life without ever knowing.'

'C'mon, don't be so scared.'

'Great, just great,' he muttered as he climbed over the rocks and into the short dark tunnel.

Excited by the mystery that lay ahead of us, I had forgotten to keep my wits about me and failed to notice the eyes watching us. The sound of an angry crow cried out as we disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

_Ah it's the rose scene... Hope that it wasn't too early for you guys, and that I did it well enough for you. We're going to take a little diversion before we get to Denerim. Sten's got a cookie for whoever can guess where? :D If people are wondering why I put in Gorim's sword, I remembered at the beginning of the dwarf noble origin that Gorim has his own sword, but that he never carries it in Denerim. Now probably it was taken from him, but I figured after he had that meeting with King Endrin, the King would allow him to keep his weapon and armour as a token. At least that's how it is in my head! Hope you enjoyed. If you have a moment, I'd love to hear what you think!_


	17. Chapter XVII: Ambushed

_Spoiler Warnings: This chapter is all about the Downloadable Content 'Soldier's Peak'. IF you haven't played this and you don't want the game spoiling, I suggest you do not read this chapter – although it may be referred back to in later chapters and it will also be dealt with in the next. However, if you don't read this chapter and the next it may hinder reading future chapters as I MAY refer back to it. Oh and you won't have a clue as to how Zevran joined the party… yes, be prepared for the dashing Antivan Crow's attack in this chapter (reworked of course!)._

Chapter 17 – Ambushed

'And this is the rose.' Nyra brought the beautiful flower from their bedroom with a soft wistful smile upon her lips. She had treasured the flower since he had given it to her all those years ago; amazed it had lasted so long. She watched as Lowena's mouth fell open.

'But it can't be,' Lowena breathed as she took hold of the small vase that the rose sat in. 'That was so long ago.' It truly was the most beautiful rose the scholar had ever seen. Its petals still a deep red and its leaves full of life, it was as healthy as the ones that grew in the small garden the Keep maintained.

'I said it then and I'll say it now,' Alistair grinned. 'I have no idea how it has lasted, but it has.'

'When we had dealt with everything here, and just before Alistair had joined us here, I made them plant the rose garden in time for his arrival.' Her husband took the rose from her and set it down gently on the table next to him before pulling his wife into his lap.

'I fell in love with you all over again the day that I arrived here and saw you stood in it,' he told her, brushing her hair from her face.

'_Ahem_,' Lowena cleared her throat. Nyra turned and looked at the scholar who sat with flushed cheeks, her eyes cast downwards to her papers, her fingers playing nervously with her quill.

'I'll just pop this back in the bedroom.' Nyra stood up and picked up her beloved rose. At the door she turned to see Lowena peering up through her lashes at Alistair, her lower lip between her teeth as she gazed longingly at him. Nyra took a deep breath and entered the room, shaking her head – she had thought the woman had a little crush on her husband, but the yearning wanton within the young woman's eyes gave her pause for thought. She would have to mention this to her husband later.

'Well,' Alistair leaned forward towards Lowena as Nyra re-entered the room as if he was spilling an enormous secret. The girl sat on the edge of her seat, her eyes wide, quill poised, eager and excited to be hearing the tale from him again. 'At that exact moment, it was leading us to into position for a perfect ambush…'

o-O-o

'See the bricks,' Nyra pointed above their heads at where the brickwork was showing through the moss that stretched over the walls and ceiling of the short tunnel. 'This is definitely the work of Dwarva Stone-smiths,' she told him excitedly.

Alistair shook his head in disbelief. 'Madness.'

He watched her with a small smile as her hands trailed along the stone walls while she rambled on about Orzammar and its stone-smiths. He realised that this was the first time she had been genuinely excited by anything since he had met her. 'We do it all the time,' Nyra continued.

'You do what all the time?' he asked, hoping to encourage her to continue in her joyous explanation of this amazing feat of architecture.

'Build façades - walls to close things off, hide things that we don't want outsiders to find. False walls hide thousands of years of history and only the Shapers know where they lie.' Her voice trailed off to a whisper as she spoke and Alistair heard the sudden sadness in her tone. He knew she had her own walls built around her, to protect herself; so did he. But her walls were getting higher and higher and soon they may be too high to scale. First she had been exiled from her home, then the Wardens had been killed and the two of them accused of killing the King; together they were outlaws. Unwanted in two lands, she had nowhere to go and now with her lover apparently casting her off, she had no one to turn too.

He turned her around, tipping her face up to look at him. 'Just don't build walls around yourself-'

'How touching,' a silky accented voice interrupted them; a blond elf stood idly against the tunnel wall behind them. He admired his nails casually, before he spoke again. 'But alas the Grey Wardens die here.' He shrugged nonchalantly as if his words were idle conversation and three swordsmen appeared from behind him, their weapons drawn, a mage cackled behind them.

_What is it with apostates and cackling? _ He thought as he unsheathed his sword and shield, waiting for the men to attack.

One of the men roared and charged towards them; Alistair moved forward, shield up ready to battle. He watched Nyra, from the corner of his eye, dance around the others towards the elf who had issued the order. He saw the apostate firing her spells towards his dwarven comrade and almost laughed at her surprise as Nyra simply knocked her out of the way as she made for her target. Building his own mental wall of resistance, he turned his attention to his own would-be attackers; a duellist like Nyra, and two inadequately trained swordsmen.

He parried their attacks, thrust his shield towards them, sweeping it across them so they had to jump out of his way; the fight was easy, he almost enjoyed it. Duelling with Nyra and Sten had been an excellent way of training, different styles attacking him at once teaching him footwork he had never used before – he'd have to thank her later for the lessons.

As one of his attackers fell, he felt it – no, he _tasted_ it. The sharp copper scent assaulted his mind, churning his stomach as the taste of blood filled his mouth. The mage was back on her feet, her eyes focused on Nyra; her hand held the magical ball of shimmering ice while droplets of blood fell through her fingers.

_Blood magic!_

Before he could blink the mage threw the ball at an unsuspecting Nyra; like the other spells, she made no move to dodge it, unaware that this was different, this wasn't the type of magic that Morrigan threw at her during their training and before he could utter a warning she was encased in a prison of ice, and he was too far from her to stop the elf from finishing her!

In a roar of fury Alistair lashed out with his will, knocking the apostate off her feet. He shoved his shield into the face of the duellist, knocking her on her back; he turned and swung his sword through the other swordsman, before turning and thrusting it into the stomach of the unconscious rogue.

The mage was pulling herself to her feet as Alistair charged at her, his sword high above his head; the woman still had her back to him when his blade met her neck. He turned ready to tackle the elf who led the attack party only to stop in his steps. The man was stuck in mid-thrust, paralysed by some unseen spell. He turned around to see if there was another apostate he hadn't seen, but the only other people present lay dead at their feet and the only magic he could feel came from the spells in force before him.

He had no idea what to do. He couldn't shatter the ice, it could shatter her, and it wasn't as if Templars could dispel magic. Lashing out in fury, he rammed the hilt of his sword into the elf's head; the spell broke and his now unconscious body slumped to the floor. The sound of cracking ice forced his attention back on Nyra.

Alistair grabbed her as the ice casing shattered and she fell to her knees. Her whole body shook and was tinged blue where her bare flesh had touched the ice.

'Co-cold!' she exclaimed through chattering teeth and his hands pulled her to him, holding her as close as he could in his battered splintmail.

_She's okay,_ he thought, relief flooding through him as he rubbed her frozen arms trying to encourage the life back into them.

'What happened?'

'Blood mage,' he whispered into her hair. 'Don't worry, I took care of it.' Although she was stiff with cold, at his words he felt her relax into his embrace, seeking out the warmth his body possessed.

'Bloody surface,' he heard her mutter before she sneezed. 'Sodding cold, damn crazy Magi.' He chuckled slightly, the rise and fall of his chest, making her head jiggle under his chin, until a moan behind him caught his attention; the assassin was stirring.

'Alistair,' she hissed through chattering teeth, as she pulled away from him. 'One's still alive. Tie him up, we need some answers.'

A crow's angry caw echoed down the tunnel as Alistair reluctantly let Nyra go to rummage through the bandits discarded supplies. His hands brushed a dirty, rough linen blanket as he pulled at some rope causing him to pause for a second. Plucking it from the bottom of the bag he wrinkled his nose as bits of dried food fell from it and inwardly cringed as he saw stains dotting it – stains that only a man could make.

He looked over his shoulder towards the small woman shivering and fighting to catch her breath and back to the blanket; sighing he folded it in his arms. He tied the assassin up first, ensuring the knots were tight, before he turned back to Nyra.

'Here,' he offered her the blanket. 'It's pretty filthy, but will help warm you.' He waited for her to take it from him but all she did was bob her head, as her hands rubbed tiny, useless circles on her arms, trying in vain to warm herself. He frowned as he threw the blanket over her shoulders and rubbed at her arms.

_She's _too_ cold,_ he realised and wondered how far the spell had cut into her. He had heard of powerful maleficars freezing men's hearts with ice-casing spells. His hands pulled back as she winced and mewed a little in pain as the rough linen attacked her frozen skin.

'I rather thought I would wake up dead,' the silky voice who had ordered the attack muttered. 'Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. You will do more damage than good doing that.' Alistair turned to look at the blond elf who was watching them closely, his eyes trained on Nyra's arms. 'She is suffering from extreme sudden cold – if you rub her arms, the cold blood could move to her heart and cause it to stop.'

Alistair's hands paused for a second over the blanket as he eyed his attempted killer warily. 'Of course, if that is your intention, by all means continue. I will not stop you. Half of my job will be done.'

'Don't listen to him,' Nyra batted his hands away and stood up tentatively, stretching her legs and trying to move. 'He's just trying to get you to kill him so his employers won't.'

'Ah, you know my employers well then, I gather?'

Nyra shook her head. 'No, it's what I did if an assassin failed me.'

'What?' Alistair asked, stunned by the confession. 'You… had people killed?'

She ignored his question as she looked down at the bound elf. 'Spill,' she simply commanded her captive, face blank and emotionless. He had only seen her this way once, in the Korcari Wilds; her face had been a blank slate as she spoke of leadership and the ominous thing she had to take care of.

'Ah, right to the point, I love a lady who knows what she wants.' Alistair's mouth opened slightly as the elf had the audacity to wink at her as he struggled with his bindings to sit up. 'My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends… and beautiful women such as yourself.' When she made no comment the elf sighed. 'I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.'

'I'm rather happy you failed,' Alistair muttered. He brightened slightly when Nyra threw him a small smile. He watched her as she questioned the assassin, listening to the words he was telling her, hearing what he wasn't saying and making him explain further. Loghain was behind the attack, of course, and had paid a fortune to get the job done.

'Although I wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid handsomely. Or so I understand. Which does make me as poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest.'

'Then why be one?' Alistair asked, confused as to why anyone would be an assassin if they didn't get paid. Surely that was the whole point of being an assassin?

'Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it's because I wasn't given much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I am led to believe. But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: wine, women, men. Whatever you fancy.'

'Men?' Alistair spluttered as he looked over the elf, who winked at him and offered him a suggestive smirk.

'Don't toy with Alistair,' Nyra warned him, although there was a hint of amusement in her voice. 'If he blushes any more times a day than he already does his head will explode.' The elf threw his head back and laughed. Nyra smiled when she heard it and Alistair's heart sank as he realised she was going to let him go.

'You were sold?' she asked as she sat down next to him expelling a heavy sigh. 'I'm afraid I don't understand that. We sell a great many things in Orzammar; weapons, gold, jewels, information, loyalty, but not people.' Her eyes widened as she looked at Alistair. 'Do you Surfacers have a people trade that we don't know about?' Zevran chuckled and began to explain that it was just how the Crows bought their recruits, unwanted children and orphans.

'Buy them young,' he told her. 'Raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.'

'I see,' she seemed to ponder that for a second. 'We raise our children similarly I supposed, albeit more carefully…'

Alistair shook his head as he listened to them exchanging cultural differences. She claimed to be Orzammar's High Commander, the highest ranked army officer within Orzammar and yet here she was conversing with the man who had just attempted to kill her as if they were old friends playing catch up.

'Why are you telling us all this?' Alistair interrupted them, his tone edged with frustration. 'Why explain your contractor's plan? Your employer's details?'

'Why not?' The elf shrugged. 'I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale precisely. Here is the thing. As this gorgeous creature next to me said before; I failed to kill you both, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will.' Nyra shrugged as if that was reasonable. 'Thing is, I like living. And you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.'

'You must think we're royally stupid.' Alistair crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at the elf. Nyra sneezed and snuggled herself further under the blanket, he quickly glanced to her, making sure she was okay. The elf smirked, suddenly understanding something.

'I think you're royally tough to kill, and utterly gorgeous,' he directed at Alistair. 'Wouldn't you agree?' He nudged Nyra who sneezed again. 'Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex god.' Nyra giggled, and snorted. She looked up in surprise. The elf chuckled, before growing serious, looking Alistair directly in the eye. He knew that he had already won over the woman; it was _him_ he needed to bring on board.

'But in all honesty, the reason _why_ you should allow me to serve is because I am skilled in many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks.'

'Nyra can do all that.'

'I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more… sophisticated… now that my attempt has failed.'

'They'll try again?' Alistair asked quietly, looking at Nyra, who was rubbing at her nose, her eyes had starting to lose focus; she shook her head as if trying to wake herself up. Alistair frowned; he needed to get her somewhere warm and dry. Morrigan had already explained to him that Nyra's body had never experienced the flu before, and although her Grey Warden abilities – whatever they may be, the witch had sniffed – were slowing the effects down, they wouldn't stop it. She needed rest, somewhere warm, dry – an inn, even a barn would do. He looked out of the top of the tunnel towards the clearing the passageway led to. Another tunnel could be seen leading into the belly of a real mountain this time. It might only lead to a dead-end, it might lead to Darkspawn infested tunnels, either way it was dry, and, if they built a fire, warm.

'Of course, the contract is still upon you,' the elf continued, refocusing Alistair's attention on him. 'It will be until either the Master who accepted it dies, the one who issued the contract dies, or you do.

'I also know a great many jokes, twelve massage techniques, and six different card games. I do wonderfully at parties, no? I could also stand around and look pretty if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors?'

'Mmmm,' Nyra sighed. 'Warm bed.'

'Nyra!'

'I meant in general…' She leaned over and cut the ties from Zevran's wrist, but didn't release them. Instead she stirred him in the eye. 'If you even think of betraying us, you will be begging for the Crows to deal with you before I'm through with you. Understand?'

'What!' Alistair wasn't really surprised, but he still wanted it known that he wasn't convinced. 'Does that really sound like a good idea? Say it aloud – we're letting a man who tried to kill us, join us.'

'We're taking him because I say so. End of story.'

'Bossy. Normally, hot. Right now, not so much,' he muttered under his breath as he left the cave towards the clearing.

'I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you,' he heard the elf's silky voice confirm to Nyra. 'Until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation… this I swear.'

o-O-o

The tunnel had led upwards, not down, but it seemed to go on forever.

'Don't build a fire,' she had told him as they had settled down in the wide passage. 'We're too far in, there's no ventilation; we'll die of smoke inhalation.'

'I need to warm you up,' he had told her. She'd blushed slightly at his words as her sleepy brain forgot to keep the hard face she had been wearing since they had allowed the assassin to join them. But instead of allowing him to light the fire she had simply helped him to remove his chest piece and her own.

Now he sat against the wall of the tunnel, with her between his legs, snuggled against him fast asleep, and he knew that there was no way _he_ was going to sleep. Two consecutive nights he had held her in his arms as she slept; two nights without any sleep, but at least he was wearing his tunic. The first time she had slept in his arms at the _Spoiled Princess_ he had only worn his britches and he had spent the entire night recanting the Chant of Light – backwards and forwards.

Tonight, however, he thought back over their whispered words.

'Did you honestly have people assassinated?' he had asked as she settled back against him.

'That's what you want to ask?' She sighed as she pulled the blanket over her. 'Yes, Alistair, I only had to give the word to Gorim and the target would be dead, usually within a few hours; other incidents would involve a longer wait. But that's how Orzammar is. As I said, even loyalty is for sale within the city.' She tried to cover the hard edge in her voice with a false yawn, but Alistair heard it all the same. 'If you're not constantly watching your back, protecting yourself and your interests, you'll lose them, your family's honour, standing and even your life.'

'But if you had that power… Tell me,' he had breathed into her ear, his eyes trained on the assassin across from them. 'Tell me what happened to you there, let me in.'

'Go to sleep,' she had muttered as she shifted slightly, her arms withdrawing from around him, and wrapping around herself. 'What I wouldn't give for a lava vent now.'

He chuckled softly; 'I'm not hot enough for you anymore?' He paused for a second, swallowing hard before he asked the next question. 'Elf taken your fancy?'

She giggled against him; he thought she sounded almost tipsy. 'He's pretty, but I prefer burly. Facial hair…' She reached up without looking and scratched at his chin, where his own beard was shaped. 'Tell me how you grew up… what was it like living as a… human noble?' He stiffened beneath her. 'C'mon, s'only fair… you want me to give my secrets up, so you gotta share yours… mine are _good_ too.'

'Did I say I was raised as a noble? I meant that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them in fact.'

'Would s'plain the smell – haven't we already had this conversation?'

He smiled down at her, her voice thick with tiredness meant she would sleep soon; perhaps he could tell her everything and she would forget in the morning?

'So we have,' he mused, thinking back to the night that he and Nyra had argued over Leliana; it seemed a thousand years ago when really only a month had passed. 'I thought I had dreamt all that? Funny the dreams you have when you sleep on the cold hard ground, isn't it?'

'Only ones where we're making mad love in my tent.'

'I… oh. I think I… completely lost my chain of thought…' He stared down at the top of her head, holding his breath. Was she being serious? Did she mean that? She chose that moment to shift, her elbow catching him in his groin.

'Oh!' he groaned, exhaling sharply. 'There it is.'

'Sorry.'

He let out another groan as she settled against him again. 'As I've said,' he cleared his throat. 'My mother was a servant, my father just a knight, I wasn't wanted.' He shrugged as if it didn't matter to him. _But it does_, his mind tortured him. _Because you're still not wanted… and that's all you want, someone to want you… You want _her_ to want you, but she doesn't. _ He ground his teeth trying to stop the tormenting voice, and dull the throbbing from his groin.

'When I said I was raised by Arl Eamon, I didn't mean that he raised me like a son. I was his charge, but that was all. I had a simple room with simple clothes, nothing that made me an Arl's son. But of course the people talk and when he married Isodel-'

'Isodel? Orlesian?'

He nodded. 'Yes, it caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her. Anyhow, she resented the rumours which pegged me as the Arl's bastard. The Arl didn't care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well really. Isodel, sorry, Arlessa as she made me call her, made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me.'

'You were probably luckier than most orphans. Remember, Zev was _sold_ to an assassin clan.'

'I suppose you're right. However, after the Arlessa moved in I lost my room. I slept in hay out in the stables. I remember…' he hesitated for a second – he had never told anyone all this before, could he reveal one of his deepest shames?

'Alistair?' he shivered as her sleepy voice called his name. He closed his eyes and imagined they were in their own room and she was calling to him to come back to bed, to keep her warm. His arms tightened around her.

'I remember I had an amulet with Andraste's holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother's. I was so furious at being sent away I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered. Stupid, stupid thing to do-'

Nyra sat up suddenly, the thin blanket falling off her bare shoulders, as awake as she could be given her exhaustion and cold. 'You were young.' She reached up and brushed her hand down his cheek, allowing him to turn into it for a second, seeking comfort he had never had – not until she had held him back at camp and allowed him to cry against her.

'And raised by dogs…' he whispered. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her and never let her go. There were so many times that he looked at her and thought he saw something, thought he saw her looking at him the way he knew he obviously looked at her, but then she'd pull away, retreating to Morrigan and Sten, keeping herself safe from the complications that came with getting involved with someone you worked with. Of course that had been what he'd told himself before he found out about her Second.

Nyra took that moment to break the spell by sneezing… all over his face.

He chuckled again as he thought of how horrified she had been. But after he had calmed her he had seen something in her eyes, something of understanding, as if she knew the pain he had gone through over such a trivial thing.

His thumb gently rubbed the bare skin of her stomach and he sighed. Even though an assassin slept across from them this was the most relaxed he had ever felt with anyone; he could almost believe she was his lover, his wife...

She gave a little snore and shifted again. He braced himself and let out a sigh as she settled again, allowing him to indulge in sweet fantasies that could never be...

o-O-o

The next morning they had begun their journey back up the tunnel, intrigued as to where it went. Alistair worried about Nyra more as they went, her pace had slowed again, her teeth still chattered and her concentration was lacking.

'We need to get her warmed,' Zevran whispered to him when Nyra stopped again for breath. 'Warmed and rested. How long exactly have you been on the road with her in this condition?'

'Long enough,' he grimly admitted, trying to count back the days they had been travelling for. He'd lost all sense of time since leaving the mage tower, especially after they had gotten lost in the forests around Bann Loren's lands. What _had _it been? Two, perhaps three weeks? And how long had she been ill for before the mage had encased her? 'But it's worse since your damned maleficar attacked her!' he hissed back at the man.

'Ah, yes, sorry about that. Water under the bridge, yes?' The elf held out his hand to him; he eyed it warily.

'In front of her, yes,' Alistair said taking his hand and squeezing it. The elf winced but said nothing as Alistair released it. 'But until you've proven yourself loyal to us, I'm keeping my eye on you.'

'But of course,' the elf nodded, turning his slight frown into a glowing grin as Nyra joined them again.

As first light broke they stepped out of the long tunnel and gasped as a mighty, long forgotten about fortress stood above them. Zevran whistled, clearly impressed by the imposing structure.

'Are we nearly there?' Nyra sighed, blowing her fringe out of her eyes as she leant against Alistair. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, hoping to help her along.

'What is this place?' Zevran asked as they approached the empty courtyard. 'I didn't realise we were by an arling.'

'We're not,' Alistair confirmed looking around confused. He had heard rumours whilst with the other Wardens, but surely this couldn't be-

'Fall back! Fall back, already!' a man shouted across the courtyard as a dozen men appeared in front of them.

'Taking the Peak will not be easy, m'lord,' another man returned.

Zevran drew his blades. 'What manner of sorcery is this?'

'I gave the Wardens one chance to die with honour,' the first man shouted above the din of the battle. 'Instead they hole up like cowards! We follow the king's advice, then. Starve them out.'

'Alishtair,' Nyra slurred his name as she held her hand to her head, rubbing her temples. 'I think… I think I'm going mad.' She turned her face up to his, her eyes pleading, begging him to make it better.

'No, you're not,' he smiled down at her, half hearted – the news was only half good. 'The veil is thin here; I feel ghosts and demons within this place.' Nyra groaned. 'Yep, your favourite.'

The men in front of them disappeared, and the courtyard was left bare again.

'Thank Andra-' Alistair's words died in his mouth as a barrage of skeletal warriors burst from the door.

o-O-o

Their mouths hung open as the images of people called Sophia and Avernus disappeared with the last demon slaughtered.

'Well, that was certainly an eye opener,' Zevran commented taking breath. Their blades had remained drawn since they had encountered the skeleton warriors in the courtyard. After what they had just witnessed – blood mage, demons and more bad guys – they weren't about to put them away now.

'Al-' Nyra made to grab for him as her legs buckled beneath her. Alistair, dropping his weapon and shield quickly, grabbed her just in time, hoisting her small frame into his arms. Zevran helped him shoulder his shield before he allowed the elf to see to her.

'This is not good, my friend,' Zevran advised him as he checked her over. 'She is too cold, her breathing too shallow, and her skin is turning grey. We need to warm her… else she _will_ die.'

Alistair held her closer to him, his face a grim line. That wasn't going to happen. Flemeth had saved her once, had told him that she was going to stand by him whilst they took down the archdemon, that he was going to rule with her at his side. He swallowed hard at that thought. _No, _his mind told him, y_ou just have to get her somewhere safer, somewhere you can rest._ That was all that mattered now, he decided as they pressed on through the doorway that led them further into the building.

As they opened another door a strong, yet distant voice called to them.

'Step no further, Warden. This one would speak with you.' A woman in grand armour turned to them as they approached the desk in the middle of, what Alistair suspected had been, the Warden Commander's office. Duncan had a similar set up in the Denerim compound. Zevran flinched as she lifted her head; her skin grey and decayed in parts, her eyes sunken into her head, and her hair left only in clumps in certain places on her rotting head.

'Who, or _what_, are you?' Alistair asked.

'You have slain many of the demon ilk to get to here. This one proposes a deal.' The demon stood behind the desk, arms folded, as it regarded them both.

'No,' Alistair shook his head. 'There is nothing a demon can offer that is worth listening to.'

'But this one can help that one,' the demon spoke plainly as it pointed to Nyra shaking within his arms. Alistair glanced at Nyra for a second; that was why they were here, to get her warm and well again, but dealing with demons?

_Wake up_, he begged her selfishly. _You'd know what to do … I'm no good at this. _He closed his eyes for a second before looking the demon in the eye.

'Tell me about the deal.'

'Whoa,' Zevran chuckled. 'Making deals with demons now, are we? I must say, the Crows have misjudged you Wardens. You are more cunning and ruthless than we suspected. Carry on. Do not let me get in the way.'

'Your Crow is wise. This one will explain. The Soldier's Peak traps me. This one sees so many tantalising places in the Dreyden's memories – this one would see the world itself.' Its voice took a melancholic dip as it walked the room staring at paintings that adorned the wall. Alistair's narrowed eyes followed it. 'For me to be free, into the old mage tower you go and destroy the one who keeps me. In return, this one will make that one better and seal the veil. No more demons, no more enemies. Your Peak,' the demon turned back to face him, its eyes falling on Nyra. 'And that one will be safe. Just let this one go into the world… you _do_ want that one to be well again?'

Gently he laid Nyra on the desk and turned to face the demon. Nyra made a deal with a desire demon back at the Circle's tower, he recalled although she had explained to him afterwards that she would rather the man die happily in a dream than kill him moments after seeing his family slaughtered – real or not. It also helped that once the Templar died the demon would have to return to the fade, unable to harm others or cause future mischief.

'I do want to see her well-'

'Then this one-'

'Wait. I never agreed.' He closed his eyes and prayed to the Maker that he was right in doing this. 'I want her to be well, but I will not reason with a demon. I almost did that already and she risked herself to get me out… I do not repeat mistakes. Most of the time.'

'Oh?' Zevran smirked, cocking an eyebrow. The elf's hands tightened on his swords, preparing to strike the demon before it struck them.

'What? Sometimes they're fun.'

'Then,' the demon snarled, 'you are both useless to this one!'

o-O-o

'Please,' Zevran panted as they opened what they hoped was their final door on their journey. 'Let this be the last. I shall not need a work out for weeks.'

Alistair couldn't have agreed more. He didn't know what lay up here, but the demon had wanted it dealt with and that could only mean that it would be on their side. _The enemy of my enemy is my friend_, he had reasoned. They hadn't faced a great deal of opposition throughout the keep, nothing that their normal group wouldn't have breezed through, but with just two of them able to fight, and trying to keep an eye on Nyra, it hadn't been easy.

'Ah, reminds me of home.' Zevran chuckled as he looked around the room. The area appeared to be an old torture facility, racks were pushed against the walls, giant panels of razor sharp needles littered the walls and devices Alistair hadn't even heard off lay in deep recesses within the floor. However, it appeared that there was also a habitable area. 'Well?' the assassin asked.

'Is there wood? Get a fire going, let's get her warm,' he commanded the elf as he laid Nyra on an old rug near it.

'There is plenty, surprisingly, but do not put her too near; move her away a bit,' Zevran advised as he bent down, working the flint and tinder. 'She has been cold for too long, she needs to be warmed slowly. If it is too quick, she may go into shock and die.'

Alistair pulled the rug further away from the fireplace as the fire caught.

'Ah, we will be warm in no time,' the elf sighed. 'Now, strip her.'

'What?' Alistair's head shot up to look at the smirking assassin.

'The best way to rejuvenate her is through body heat – it's what you did last night, no?'

'You… were awake?' Alistair spluttered. The idea of this stranger seeing the two of them in such an intimate moment made him cringe. It had been the first time since the circle tower that they had spent any sort of time alone – or as alone as can be with a sleeping assassin nearby. He had cherished holding her in his arms, his hands laid carefully on her bare flesh… He cleared his throat. 'It was her idea.'

'And a good one at that. Strip her – just her torso if you fear she will kill you. Personally I prefer the element of danger – but it's your call.' The elf shrugged as Alistair glared at him.

'Don't look then,' Alistair tried his most commanding voice.

'Why ever not? I will be pressed against her too.'

'What!' Alistair almost dropped his charge as he looked at the elf, who had also begun to strip. 'You're coming nowhere near her!' He instinctively pulled Nyra closer to him.

'Relax, my protective friend. It's what is needed. Two bodies, pressed against her front and back, will heat her evenly, it will aid in her recovery.' Alistair raised his eyebrow and looked down to the woman in his arms; the rise and fall of her chest was barely visible, her lips tinged blue. Sighing he nodded his head, unable to look back at Zevran who had already started to unbuckle his leathers.

Alistair's fingers worked the clasps of his spintmail and divested of it, and his tunic beneath, before he began working on Nyra's. His fingers shook slightly as he slipped the leather from her body; he had never undressed a woman before, and he hadn't thought that the first time would be when saving her life. The fact that Nyra lay unconscious did not stop the chantry-drilled-voice in his mind telling him how wrong it was.

Trying to push it away, telling it he was doing this to _save_ her, he finally removed her cuirass and sighed in relief to see that she still wore her breast-wrappings, as she had the night prior.

He finally lay next to her and scooped her into his arms, watching tentatively as the assassin joined him and made to lie next to her too.

'Wait.' Alistair assessed the situation quickly. He was 'spooned' into her, her rump pressed nicely – he cleared his throat – into his lap, her head lying on his arm. If the assassin lay next to her she'd be facing him, her chest pressed against his, like a lover. He shook his head; that just wouldn't do. The whole situation wouldn't do, but he had no choice. Carefully he rolled her over, settling her head against his chest, pulling her tight against him. His arms tight around her, telling the assassin, in no uncertain terms, that she was his. _But she's not_, his mind whispered vehemently.

Zevran snuggled against her, as much as Alistair's arms would allow him, pressing his own torso to her back, his arms reached out and wrapped around Alistair's waist.

'What, in Andraste's name!' he hissed, batting the elf's hands away. 'Keep your hands off me!' he growled, pulling Nyra all the closer.

'Relax, would you rather my hands hold your waist or wrap around her delectable frame?'

Alistair gritted his teeth as he stared at the elf, who knew exactly where Alistair wanted them – as far from the woman he desired as possible. 'Fine,' he finally grunted. 'But keep them still.'

'Why do you not just paralyse me again?' Zevran asked. 'Then your mind would be completely at ease, no?'

'What?'

'Paralyse me, like you did in the tunnel.'

'I – I have no idea what you're talking about.' He shifted Nyra close again as he rested his head on his arm as if preparing to sleep, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to again, and this time it had nothing to do with the beautiful woman in his arms.

'You did not paralyse me with your Templar magic?' A crow cawed in the rafters high above them, causing them to both glance its way.

'I do not have magic. Templar's use Will; we don't have spells, only countermeasures.'

'Then who paralysed me? For it cannot have been the one that I hired.'

The question hung in the air as the beady eye of the crow peered down at the trio, its feathers ruffled in dissatisfaction at what it was seeing below.

o-O-o

'_Alistair, my love, please,' Nyra breathed against his throat, as her hands ran along his naked body. 'Please take me, I need you. Now.' She wiggled against him, pushing herself against his tightening length. He threw his head back and groaned as she giggled, wiggling again. 'You like that don't you, I can do more than that, I promise.'_

_Her lips reached up and pressed against his, hot and urgent; he parted his own, allowing her to slide her tongue into his hot waiting mouth-_

'What do you think you're doing, boy?' a wheezing voice hissed in his ear. Alistair's eyes opened immediately and spat out the finger he had sucked between his lips from the hand pressed over his mouth. An aging man knelt above him, his eyes focused on the sleeping form of Zevran. 'Don't say a word, and do not wake that _assassin_ up. My words are for the ears of Grey Wardens only.'

'Who are you?' He asked, trying to twist around slightly without disturbing Nyra or the sleeping elf. 'Another demon?'

'No, no, although some may now call me that – but no, I am Avernus, Warden Mage – or at least I was once upon a time. I have been trapped here by the damn demons I summoned a long time ago. They are at bay for now; they seek to replenish their numbers.'

'You're the one, the one from the vision, the one who caused all this?' He looked for his sword, only to see it placed out of reach. The mage shook his head at him, following his eyes.

'There is no need to fear me, and we can play the blame game later,' he told him as he held up a vial filled with a red liquid and nodded at Nyra. 'This is for her. It will warm her far quicker, but safely, than you two are doing now. It will also _enhance_ her.'

'What?' Alistair eyed the vial suspiciously. 'Zevran said it would be dangerous to warm her quickly. What is it?'

'I will not lie to you, Templar; it involves a little blood magic.'

'No,' Alistair's voice was strong as he pushed the vial back towards the supposed Warden. 'I am not opening her up to _that_.' The crow cawed angrily. Alistair frowned up to the rafters, unsure why the bird made him feel so uncomfortable.

'Don't be an idiot,' the old man hissed. 'She isn't going to live without it. I have been watching you since you arrived. Your techniques would indeed help someone with a mild case of her predicament, but even if you stayed like this for a week it is only prolonging the inevitable.'

Alistair looked down at the woman in his arms, his eyes widening in panic. 'But Zevran said-'

'The elf knows that you will be rid of him the moment she dies. He is giving you hope.'

'He's probably not asleep you know,' Alistair said, glaring at his newest and _very_ unwanted companion.

'Oh he is,' the strange man chuckled. 'I ensured it. This elixir is what has kept me alive all these years. It has kept my calling at bay, as I have worked on a way to eradicate it altogether. It lengthens my life, and stops illnesses and other such inconveniences from interfering with my work.

'It will warm her, quickly but safely, it will give her greater endurance, strength, and resistance to poisons. It will also lengthen the time until her call.' Alistair looked at Nyra again, her mouth was slightly open.

_What would you do? _He thought. _You'll take it because I say so_, he imagined, remembering her words when she had accepted Zevran.

Taking the vial from the man he uncorked the bottle with his teeth, spitting it out across the room. 'If you're lying to me, old man,' he hissed. 'I swear I will ensure that the call is the least of your worries.' Taking a deep breath he gently nudged Nyra's mouth open a little more and tipped a small amount of the potion over her lips. She spluttered a little at first, but finally swallowed it.

'All of it,' the mage encouraged. Little by little she swallowed the potion until she had finished the entire vial. Alistair turned to the old man to give him the empty vial only to be presented with another.

'I'm not giving her more than that.'

'It's not for her.' He looked Alistair direct in the eye, his eyebrows raised.

'Me? But – but I'm not ill.'

'You are both fresh recruits, the taint is still young within you, but I feel it, the Archdemon – a Blight is upon us, yes?' Alistair nodded. 'The taint is a curious thing. It takes some men immediately, some a few years after its ingestion, generally though, two or three, sometimes four, decades is all we get, depending upon our age at our joining and how much involvement we have with the Darkspawn. Those who live during a Blight, or other heavy periods of Darkspawn problems, tend to live shorter lives than those who live during peace.

'I have survived nearly twenty decades by taking this concoction.' Alistair eyed it warily. 'You poured it down the neck of your friend, yet you hesitate yourself? Interesting.' Glaring at the man, Alistair downed the brew, spluttering as it hit his throat. 'Burns a little at first,' the aging mage chuckled as he stood up, moving back towards his desk on the plinth that overlooked the room. 'But you get used to it. See, she is already gaining strength again. She will be out of the woods in an hour or so.'

Alistair cleared his throat and looked down to Nyra; her cheeks appeared to be slightly flushed and he could already hear the improvement in her breathing. He knocked Zevran's hands from her hips and pulled her to him, hating the fact that he had allowed the elf to be so familiar with her. He stood up, holding her in his arms and moved them to the couch just behind him. If she was to gain strength without the need of _both_ of them, he would ensure that she woke only in his arms.

He settled back against the settee and smiled as she wiggled against him to get comfortable. He could already feel her skin warming and sighed in relief, allowing his body to finally relax.

'Avernus, how did you find that potion?'

'Enough talk for this evening, we may speak again in the morning. Rest now, young recruit and rest easy, I will not allow your Elven _friend_ to disrupt you before you awaken.' The mage waved his hand through the air and Alistair was asleep within seconds, too exhausted to fight Avernus' magic.

o-O-o

Lowena stared at Alistair with wide eyes. She had wondered how they had lived almost three decades, aging so well and without even the first signs of the call happening. It was supposedly common knowledge amongst residents at the Keep that Wardens who had high contact with the Darkspawn received their callings quicker, but Nyra and Alistair seemed to be exceptions to the rules. Now she knew why. But if they had the means to extend Warden's lives, why did the Grey Wardens the Commander had based in Orzammar, Kal'Hirol and Kal-Sharok have such relatively short lives compared to those upon the surface?

'You – _you _used blood magic, ser? Willingly?'

Alistair blushed and looked away guiltily. Nyra smiled lovingly at her husband, thinking it wonderful that even after all these years he was still her blushing-Templar, but her eyes quickly returned to watch the scholar sitting across from her.

'Alistair compromised his values to save _me_,' the Commander spoke up. 'It wasn't easy for him and it played on his conscious something rotten. But sometimes,' she sighed heavily. 'Sometimes the right choices in life are not the ones we agree with, but we make them to aid the greater good. What Alistair did that day was compromise his own values to save someone he cared about – I would have done exactly the same. I had to on a number of occasions, to be honest.'

Lowena licked her lips and played with the feather of her quill as she looked at the Deputy-Commander. 'Did it… have any side effects?'

'Oh, Avernus wasn't lying when he said it would _enhance _us. We believe that because of it, Alistair's own life was saved just a few months later when we were travelling-'

'You're jumping ahead, my dear.' He patted her knee, still unable to look at either of them.

'That I am.' She looked the scholar in the eye. Alistair's sudden discomfort gave her the perfect excuse to get rid of her for a number of days. 'Perhaps it would be wise to take a break for a few evenings. Process what you have heard so far. When you are ready to hear the rest, let Alvenia know so that she may arrange another meeting.'

Lowena nodded and gathered her belongings, still stunned at what Alistair had revealed. He had always spoken against the use of Blood Magic when dealing with the Warden Magi and had taught Templar-trained recruits how to restrain and bring down blood mages and maleficars with feverish passion. She had quietly cheered him on when Desmona had been found practicing the despicable act, agreeing that she should be returned to the Circle of Magi to be dealt with, and had been disgruntled when the Commander had suggested the alternative of sending her to Orzammar to serve the Wardens posted there. She had been displeased when Alistair had relented and agreed with his wife.

_Sometimes the right choices aren't always the ones you agree with, _the Commander's words echoed through her mind. _Interesting though, that the right choices always seem to be yours, Commander._


	18. Chapter XVIII: Madness!

_Sincere apologies for the delay in getting this out. With the madness of the Holidays and my Beta's poorly PC it was just unfortunate timing. Thanks to Jo for getting this back to me! And to all my readers - thanks for sticking with me!_

Chapter Eighteen – Madness

'Do you think she'll carry on with it?' Alistair asked Nyra a few days later as they sat in their office reading through a number of reports sent from the dwarven cities. Nyra usually dealt with them whilst Alistair dealt with the surface issues and, although Nyra would always clear his actions first, very rarely did she question his decisions.

Nyra shrugged continuing to read through the parchment she held, her brows drawn into a frown. 'Little Endrin is causing problems,' she muttered nibbling on her lip. 'I told Gorim to get shot of him last year. He's still a big stupid softy – I have no idea how he's still king.'

'The city prospers under him; as the city gets richer so does it's nobles, who remain happy with their king for lining their purses with gold.'

'Little politician are we?' Nyra tried to grin. 'Endrin's challenging me again - this time to the death.' She sighed heavily; the attempted grin fell from her face as she threw down the letter and rubbed at her tired eyes.

Alistair stood and moved from his desk over to hers, pulling her chair back and crouching down in front of her. He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to each of them.

'Look at me Nyra.' Her sad grey-blue eyes looked into his amber ones. 'You don't have to go; you don't need to lose him too.' There was no doubt in his mind that she wouldn't win the contest; she had never once lost a proving match she had been challenged to and Endrin was certainly no great or accomplished warrior.

'I have to. Orzammar is calling not Gorim. I'm the paragon and the people have had enough of him slating me. They want me to stand up to him, to take on his challenge; I have to fight on their behalf.'

Alistair rubbed her fingers gently. 'My love, you've been through enough with your family. Don't you think-'

'Bhelen should never have called him Endrin. It's an insult; _he _was the death of my father.' She looked out the huge window behind them that separated their large desks.

'I know, my love, I know.'

'I met his whore the day before we set out on my doomed exhibition; she was looking for Bhelen - probably to tell him the news. Damn bint had the audacity to stumble over her words as if she was in awe of me; now she feeds her son lies and fills his head that he is something more than he is, the son of a noble-hunter.'

'I thought that a son followed his father's caste?' Nyra cast him a long look that said not to push her. _You can take the dwarf out of Orzammar_, he thought, sighing, _but you can't take Orzammar out of the dwarf. _'When do we leave?'

She closed her eyes in relief. 'I love you, you know.'

'What's not to love?' he asked as he moved to call for Alvena.

'Ser?' The elf bowed as she entered their study.

'Prepare for a trip to Orzammar; we leave on the morrow.'

'Very good, ser.' She hesitated for a second before continuing. 'Apprentice Scholar Lowena has requested to meet with you again...'

Nyra turned and looked at her assistant, weighing her words as the elf raised her eyebrow in question. 'Add her to the entourage.' The elf nodded and left quickly to begin preparations for the unexpected trip.

'What was that little exchange about?'

'Nothing,' Nyra muttered folding her arms and turning back to the view from the window. She had tried to discuss the young scholar with Alistair a number of times during the last few days about what she perceived to be an attraction on the young woman's behalf. Her naïve husband had refused to listen to her, stating he would never entertain her even if it was true. That, however, wasn't what she was worried about.

o-O-o

Although Nyra could ride horses, she wasn't brilliant at it, her legs too small to properly station herself on the saddle, and with the amount of work she still had to carry out on the way to her homeland, she opted for the carriage to carry her and Lowena to Orzammar. _Two birds, one stone, _she thought and then chuckled as the image of a large golem, fists raised to the air, fluttered through her mind.

The impromptu trip was going to cause havoc with preparations for the beginning of Satinalia and with Alistair's First Day gift – the best he had ever received. She had been working on it with Alvena all year in secret to ensure that it was ready in time. Now, though, between Orzammar's demand for her immediate appearance, telling Lowena the tale of the Blight and dealing with the girl's love-struck eyes at her husband, and some further disturbing news of activity within the Deep Roads again, it looked like it would be some time _after _First Day that he would get it.

Nyra pouted at the thought. She was really looking forward to seeing his face when she'd tell him to remove his blindfold and he'd see-

'Allow me to help.' Alistair's rich, warm voice interrupted her thoughts as he helped the young scholar into the carriage. Nyra watched silently as the woman took his hand and gracefully stepped up to join her. He popped his head inside and offered his wife a quick kiss to her cheek before nodding to them both and mounting his horse. Although he was no longer king, he enjoyed to see the land as they traversed through it, to see what the current king had done to help his people prosper. From time to time Alistair would still visit Denerim to aid the young monarch, especially whenever the Landsmeet was called – he still had nightmares of the first day he had faced them as sovereign.

Alvena offered the Commander a supportive smile as she closed the door and moved to her horse. Only Nyra rode within the carriages usually, the other two taken up with supplies and gifts to whomever would be their host.

'So,' Lowena began as she settled back into the comfortable carriage seat, with, what Nyra would describe as, a secretly pleased smile upon her face. 'Commander, you were given a… potion to help you recover - which obviously worked - how long was it before you regained your health?' Nyra shook her head in wonderment as the young woman offered no apology to her, or her husband, for the girl's reaction a few days prior.

'When I awoke it was before any of the others, confused as to where I was and what had happened. I had expected to be in Alistair's arms, but in the tunnel we had rested in, not recalling much of our expedition into the Peak because of my fever. What I hadn't expected was the batty old mage talking to himself…'

o-O-o

I lifted my head from Alistair's chest and smiled sleepily at him. His mouth was slightly ajar and his nose kept twitching. I went to grab it, to awaken him when I heard another voice.

'I gave them the potion just like you told me too.' Slowly and carefully sitting up I hugged the blanket to my chest as I cast my eyes about. I had no idea where we were, or where my armour was for that matter! Later I'd be asking Alistair and our newest friend, Zevran, just what happened for us all to be topless. Unable to spy my breastplate I gave up on the nasty blanket around me, gingerly throwing it back over Alistair, before turning back to the low voice. It sounded as if it was conversing with another, but I could hear only the one.

'Well it's not my fault the elf is with them! _You_ were supposed to ensure... She's dwarven of course she'll resist magic... No it will take time for it to weaken... When your-'

As I moved towards the back of the room, the voice suddenly stopped and I jumped as the head of an old man popped around a stone wall.

'Ah finally awake are we? About time!'

'Who-'

'I'm Avernus, you're Nyra, that's Alistair.' He motioned towards my snoring friend before nodding towards Zevran; 'And that's a mistake.' I blinked rapidly as I tried to comprehend what was going on. The big black crow on his shoulder cawed. 'Yes, yes, glad to see my potion worked. Colour back in your cheeks and all that.'

'You… gave me a potion? What kind of potion?' My hand grabbed at my throat instinctively, unsure as to what was going on, or what I had been fed.

'One that saved you - Alistair will explain I'm sure. Now I must be getting-'

'Wait.'

'What?'

'You're a… are you … you _are _a Grey Warden… aren't you?' I shook my head as my mind began to fill with a soft tune, something that sounded familiar and yet I had no idea where from, but for some reason this song told me that the mage stood before me belonged with me, with Alistair and I, as a Grey Warden.

'That's a little side effect of the potion. It enhances you ability to sense the taint, thus a greater awareness of Darkspawn _and_ a newly acquired sense of fellow Grey Wardens. Comes in handy if you're trapped in a fortress for nearly two hundred years and not expecting visitors.'

'You... knew we were coming?'

'I felt you coming through the tunnels.' He pursed his lips as his gaze travelled over me. I felt as if his eyes were assessing me, sizing me up to see if I could hold the role that I held now. Finally he nodded as if he had settled upon something. 'Close your eyes. If I wanted to kill you,' he pouted as I hesitated, 'I'd have done it whilst your slept, silly girl. Now,' he continued as I did as he asked. 'Empty your mind; concentrate only on the darkness behind your lids, think of the blackness of the taint, its creeping corruption upon everything living. Listen to it thrumming through your veins…'

His voice trailed off as the encroaching humming started – the humming that I associated with the Deep Roads – but this time it was different, this time it was within me. It was coming from my core, from my blood; it ran through my body trying to taint it, turning it into something for them to control. However, there was something else, a song so soft and gentle it was but a whisper compared to the throbbing hum of the taint. It moved over the taint, caressing it with its soft melody, calming the hum and diminishing its attack upon me. My eyes flew open as I felt it.

'No, no,' the old mage barked, shaking his head. 'Keep your eyes closed. I'm not done yet. Right, now then, forget about what is within you – think outwardly. Try and feel, or _hear_, it around you...'

I took a deep breath and released it slowly, and stood there. I had no idea what he meant.

'Oh yes,' I muttered, opening one eye, only to find Avernus stood with his arms crossed, his foot tapping as he looked at me in exasperation. I quickly closed my eyes again.

'Just stand there,' he huffed as I heard his footsteps move away from me. 'You'll get it eventually.'

I wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or if he just wanted me to look the Commons idiot, but I did as I was told.

'What are you doing?' Alistair asked, his voice thick with sleep as he crept up behind me and whispered in my ear. Jumping a mile high, I turned and almost hit him on instinct. 'Whoa,' he held up his hands in surrender, his eyes wide in surprise, as he took a step back. 'Didn't mean to startle you.'

I blinked as I looked up and suddenly felt the humming reverberating off him. I took a step back, stunned and unexpectedly uncomfortable near him. As I stepped back, I felt the humming softly coming from another direction – from where the mage had disappeared to. Without answering Alistair I turned to where the old man was and stalked over to him.

'What have you done?' I demanded, then stopped. The hum from him was different; Avernus' was so quiet whilst Alistair's was as strong as my own.

'Nyra, what's the matter?' Alistair asked, as he wiggled his finger in his ear. 'And whoever is humming will you please stop, that's really annoying.' I looked up at him.

'You drank it too?'

'Drank what? Oh that potion of Avernus'? Yes?'

I turned back to the mage and felt sick, the humming was starting to echo all around me. It was as if it was coming from beneath my feet, shaking the foundations of the fortress. I grabbed Alistair to steady myself as I felt my balance tipping. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to him as the world started to spin.

'What have you done to us?' Alistair demanded loudly, trying to be heard over the deafening roar of the hum. As he pulled me against him, his own feet becoming unsteady, he dropped us to the floor, holding on to me as if our lives depended on each other.

Avernus looked down at us sombrely. 'I told you it would enhance you, it has done so, you just have to learn to control it. It would help if you listen to the song, not the hum.'

'What?' I shouted to him, my head feeling like it was going to split open at any second as the din continued to pound at my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to Alistair, knowing that I could trust him; he had held me once as I lay dying, he wouldn't let me go so easily again.

The mage's cold fingers grabbing my chin forced my eyes to open and focus on him. _Look at me,_ his lips said, _focus. _ I resisted the urge to pull away, to close my eyes and bury my head against the safety and comfort of Alistair's chest and focused on the mage's eyes, his tiny brown eyes that held so much knowledge of the Wardens, of the Call and our plight.

Slowly the humming started to dim to as soft as it was when I approached him and the quiet song I had heard whispering over the hum earlier, within me, was now singing, emanating, from within him.

'That's it,' he whispered, 'focus on me and it will stop.' I stared for a long while until eventually the new song also fell away and the world was back to rights. Or at least I thought so. Alistair's arms tightened on me again and I heard him groan in agony.

'Alistair!' I turned panicking, jumping to my knees and turning his face to me. His eyes were tightly shut, his mouth screwed up in pain and his arms tried to bring me closer to him still, squeezing me until I couldn't breathe. 'Alistair!' I called again still holding his face between my hands as I shook him gently to try and get him to look at me. Finally he peered through eyes that instinctively wanted to shut to block out the pain, and I smiled, hoping it might help to soothe him. I pointed to Avernus, who sighed and turned his attention to the almost-Templar.

Finally we were both subdued; Avernus' song calming us both until it became a whisper itself.

'It was fortunate they moved when they did,' the mage said to us, his voice serious; the slight hint of crazy I had thought I heard when I met him completely gone.

'What?' Alistair croaked.

The mage sat himself on the floor across from us and took a deep breath. 'The humming you just heard was the Archdemon and his horde. It was so loud as the Archdemon was calling to them, _talking _to them in a way. I did not realise they were moving beneath us again-'

'Along the Roads,' I whispered, listening again for the humming, it was still there, still waiting to split my head open until I turned and looked back to Avernus, listening for his song instead. The mage nodded his head.

'I felt the beast moving along this very path almost a year ago now; their numbers are not as large as they were then, but still vast. I... I wanted to leave, to go to Orlais and warn the Wardens there – I did not realise there were any in Ferelden still.'

'They were reinstated over twenty years ago by King Maric.' Alistair slipped an arm from around me and stuck his finger back in his ear to wiggle it again. 'I'd never even heard of this place, although I was only initiated six months ago.'

Avernus seemed to ponder this for a moment. 'The humans called in the dwarven masons to ensure that the peak was never found, and I couldn't leave via the hidden high road because I was held here by the demons – I created them and until they are destroyed I cannot be free of these walls. If I leave they do too, and there are – were – too many of them to have done so. I had to hope that the other Wardens would feel it too, hear it within their dreams, and act.'

'They did, but too late,' I said as I thought of Ostagar. Alistair's arm tightened on me, and I knew that he was thinking the same. Cailan's defeat had bought us time, but Lothering had given them a chance to replenish, or at least _begin_ to replenish their numbers, and now they were gathering themselves deep below the land, preparing to attack once again, and I had no idea how long we had.

I had promised Alistair that I would help him; that we would bring the armies together, unite them under the treaties and aid the Orlesian Wardens and any other army that would march under our banner to defeat the Archdemon and its dark army. I had also promised him vengeance in the process; Loghain's head for the death of his friends, and my own, Cailan.

I wanted to laugh hysterically at the thought of the two of us managing what I had promised. I could meticulously plan a hit on a thaig or a city that we wanted to try and reclaim. An impromptu change in tactics needed for an attempted raid on Orzammar, no problem; I had been raised eating and breathing military matters relating to our Roads, my city, my people. I had hundreds of strategies ready at the drop of a hat, but not one of them would help me up here.

I had been raised a princess, dealing with the politics of Orzammar whenever I wasn't dealing with its army. I had been raised to assess people, to discover a noble's weakness, how to hit their house when they moved against me, and always how to solve disputes between rivals and come out looking like a brilliant, and generous, problem solver that required no reward, putting their honour into debt with me. But up here things were done differently, or at least they weren't done by Dwarva.

I wasn't trained to deal with humans or elves, and my people – people who had _exiled_ me – as an outsider. I certainly hadn't been trained for my own people turning against me or for life upon the surface.

_Run away,_ my mind was screaming at me suddenly. _Run, go to Orlais, forget Ferelden – if Loghain wants to play leader let him. We'll prepare the Orlesian army for when Ferelden falls and the Darkspawn begins its march towards us._

'We can do this,' Alistair whispered into my ear as if he had read my mind. 'I know it seems insane, I wonder how just the two of us are going to be able to do it, but I know with you here, I just know that we can.'

I closed my eyes and sighed. Against my better judgement I had to try. For him.

o-O-o

Nyra looked lovingly out of the carriage window towards her husband. He rode his horse well, and she smiled as he looked towards her. Horses were a great blessing to them when it came to these lengthy trips and she wished they'd had them back during the Blight – however, if they had, she knew that the story would not have been the same, quick travelling would not have allowed her to form her friendship with Alistair, and later their romance.

'Over the next few days Avernus helped us to master the new soundings of the taint that coursed through our veins.' Nyra said to the Scholar, surprising the young woman from her scribbling. Lowena looked over to her as she shook a piece of parchment dry before tucking it away and pulling out a fresh piece.

'Was it difficult?' She asked. 'Did you have to keep looking at him all the time?'

Nyra laughed, surprising herself as she remembered how Alistair had followed the mage around for the first day, not letting him out of his sight just so the noise would keep away. Eventually, though, they had realised that they just had to listen to the whispering song travelling through their own blood to stop the assault from the tainted beasts beneath them.

'It wasn't that hard once we learnt,' was all she said. 'I surmised it would help us in the long run whilst on our mission. We'd know when the Darkspawn were heading to the surface again and preparing to attack. However, I had to swallow my fear that perhaps they were reforming to try a different strategy – an attack on Orzammar.'

'Commander, may I ask why I have never heard of this potion? And if it does extend a Warden's life and stop the Call, why do you not dispatch it to our Wardens? Surely the Wardens in the dwarven cities would benefit from it – they always seem to be Called sooner than those upon the surface.'

Nyra bit her lip as she studied the woman before her. They had picked her because she liked to get involved in the story, she liked to question what she was hearing, but there were some questions Nyra really didn't want to answer.

'I made a decision a long time ago not to distribute the potion to the Wardens. The Call is held at bay by the brew, but it has the consequence of extending one's life. Enough of the concoction will eventually stop the Call from even happening, but as we saw, at over two hundred years old, Avernus still had the taint within him, and was still holding the Call at bay. None of us knew how old you'd have to be to eventually be rid of it all together.

'Imagine all the Wardens taking it; how do we explain to people that suddenly we've gone from having ten, twenty or thirty year life spans as actual Wardens, to suddenly living over a hundred years – some even longer?

'Those who sought power could certainly use this to extend themselves; undergoing the ritual, taking the potion and then using their lengthened lifespan to try and gain power over land and people. No, the risk was too great – too many secrets would be questioned, too many consequences could be taken from it.'

'Commander,' Alvena's voice interrupted their discussion. 'We should be at the Gates by nightfall,' the elf told her.

'Thank you, Alvena.' The elf nodded and pulled her horse away from the carriage. Nyra began to pack her things away. Although they had set off on the day's travel only two hours ago, she knew that her mind would no longer be able to focus on the tasks she had set herself. At least speaking to Lowena seemed to distract her a little.

'So while you two were learning to master the taint, what was the assassin, Zevran doing?'

'Ah, Zev,' Nyra smiled gently. 'I kept apologising to him for ignoring him-'

'_You _were apologising to _him_?' Lowena blinked repeatedly as she looked at the Commander. 'He tried to _kill_ you, why didn't you just kill him?'

'You know, he has asked me that same question a number of times throughout the years, and I always answer the same thing; I have no idea. I guess if I look back, what he said about his life, about being sold as a child and only given one choice, survive or die, set something off within me. I had faced the same situation when exiled; I survived and he had done the same.' Nyra shrugged. 'It still makes no sense. Anyway, Zev would wave me away to go and practice with Alistair, always promising to still be there when I returned – saucy sod – whilst he learned the history of the Peak from Avernus.

'Three days later, after Avernus had mended the tear in the veil, and I had made him promise to continue his research, ethically, we began to get ready to leave the Peak...'

o-O-o

'But I don't want it.'

'Why not? It fits.'

'Because it's not mine!'

'But it's not being used! It's just _decorating_ this place, gathering dust. It's good, no, excellent armour going to waste; you _need_ new armour and there's no way on this freezing land you call Ferelden that we could afford even one gauntlet of this standard of arms - this one is _Dragonbone_ for crying out loud! Do you know how much that stuff costs?' I thrust the beautifully made suit at Alistair again and this time removed my hands, forcing him to hold onto it.

After Avernus had sealed the hole he had created two centuries ago, the four of us had explored the Peak a little. Within one corridor I had found an excellent display of suits, all a grey-blue in colour, be them leather or metal, and all of them bearing the same symbol; that of the Commander of the Grey. Unsurprisingly there were no Dwarva sized uniforms. However, I had found one that was a near perfect fit for Alistair and it just happened to be the most superior of them all. The others were made of Silverite, this was the only Dragonbone set.

Zevran, of course, found our display most amusing which only antagonised Alistair further.

'This is a _commander's_ uniform,' he told me, trying to get me to take it back. I folded my arms and turned away from him, refusing to budge on the matter. 'I am _not _the commander here, you are.'

'Oh?' Zevran queried. 'I thought you were the senior warden?'

'I am,' he huffed. 'Nyra was some sort of high commander in Orzammar though; _she_ should be wearing it.'

'No, Alistair,' I told him. 'No. The Grey Wardens go by seniority, not by rank. You are the most senior, therefore you _are_ technically the Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden. Look!' I exclaimed, starting to get really angry as I grabbed the suit from him, and threw it down at his feet. It hit the floor with an enormous racket that echoed through the dusty hallways. 'You told me to stop acting like a child, now I'm telling you to do the same. You want me to be in command? Be the boss? Fine. Put the damn armour on now and stop complaining. That's an order!'

He made to speak, and then closed his mouth again promptly. Zevran finally burst out laughing as Alistair realised he had backed himself into a corner.

_Gotcha, _I thought smugly. 'And when you've got it on,' I continued, marching onwards down the corridor. 'I want you to parade it for me … with a twirl at the end.'

o-O-o

'I did not realise I would be travelling with Royalty,' Zevran whispered into my ear as I waited for Alistair to return from his bathroom break. We had been on the hidden high road Avernus had directed us to for only a few hours and already we were exhausted. Avernus had said that the path was treacherous, but we hadn't realised how risky it was. Already Zevran had saved me from falling to my death, my cheek grazed from a near miss with a sharp rock and every inch of me screamed as I used muscles I never knew I had to hold onto the mountainside.

'What do you mean?' I asked, my head whipping around to face him.

'Orzammar's High Commander was also its Princess from what I was told a few years ago when Lady Aeducan was promoted to the prestigious position.'

'How do you know that?' I hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him further down the path, away from the corner where Alistair had disappeared just a moment before.

'So it is true, interesting.' He smirked down at me. Before he could blink I had pulled him down to face me, my blade at his throat, and yet he didn't bat an eyelash. 'I know it because it is my job, as an assassin, to be aware of the royal houses of all the kingdoms in Thedas, to know where the power lies, who holds the cards and who is cheating… if I did not know all this, I could easily turn to the wrong people and my life would be cut undeniably short.'

'That still could happen,' I growled.

'Yes.' His eyes flickered down to where I pressed my dagger. 'It very well could. Alas your secret is safe with me – if it is a secret, of course.' Alistair's silhouette appeared just behind Zevran and I cursed, pushing the elf away, while neatly tucking my blade back under the folds of my 'skirt' as Alistair called it.

'Keep your hands off me,' I hissed at the assassin, who merely raised his eyebrow at my shove. I saw Alistair freeze for a second in surprise giving me a moment to hiss, 'You better keep that mouth of yours shut,' before I turned on my heel and marched onwards.

I heard Alistair a few seconds later; 'If you ever try anything on her again…'

I wondered for a moment how long it would take to land if I just jumped.

o-O-o

'Oh dear,' Lowena commented as Nyra finished her rather brief description of what had transpired at the Peak. 'So how long did it take you to get back to the road?'

'Eleven days. Eleven long, exhausting days; during which time I had wanted to strangle both of my companions for one reason or another. I seriously wondered was there something about Alistair that just made people want to squabble with him?' Nyra cast a glance out at her husband; he sat straight in his saddle, smiling as he spoke with Alvena, Tabatha and Marcus. He looked completely at ease and yet one of the hardest parts of their tale was on the horizon and he knew it.

He turned and caught her eye, noting her troubled stare, and he nudged his horse towards the carriage, until the fine stallion matched its pace. He leaned down through the window of the vehicle and offered her his arm and a flirtatious grin.

'My lady, may I be so bold as to offer you to share my saddle?' He winked at her. Nyra grinned back and took his arm, climbing through the window and effortlessly making the transition from the carriage to his steed. Lowena sat staring at them with surprise as Alistair wrapped his arm around Nyra, protecting her from the biting cold of the Frostback Mountains, and guided the horse away from the vehicle dropping them back behind the rest into a gentle trot.

'Don't worry,' Harry called to the Scholar from the other side of the carriage. 'They end up doing that at some point whenever we travel. Don't know why they just don't ride like that from the off.'

'Because,' Velithay laughed, 'then she really wouldn't get anything done.'

o-O-o

_Gosh I do _**not**_ like this chapter. Seriously. Gah! Again it's a bit of a non-chapter, but it's needed. Oh well, next chapter is set in Denerim and we all know who's in Denerim, right? Right? Chapter 19 is currently in Jo's ever so capable hand's and chapter 20 is almost done... it was done, and then Gorim and Alistair decided that they needed to talk... so now I'm having to put extra bits in. BOYS! *Sighs* In fact... yup, they're calling me right now... Hmm, running to Gorim and Alistair... it's not a bad life is it ;)  
_


	19. Chapter XIX: Back for Seconds

Chapter Nineteen – Back for Seconds

Lowena had not been enjoying Orzammar. Everything outside of the Grey Warden compound was too small for her. She wasn't a tall person and yet she had to duck to enter the shops, her knees were always up to her chin when she sat down and everyone she tried to speak to outside of the Wardens treated her with trepidation, careful with their words or ignoring her unless they had to speak to her directly. Now she was out with the other Wardens, however, things had suddenly changed.

The Grey Wardens were welcomed openly, a larger table and set of chairs were rushed over to them upon entering Tapsters and people actually approached them to speak rather than waiting to be spoken too. This only made Lowena more miserable. That was until she saw Alistair walking into the bar – _without_ his wife. It was the first time she had seen him since they had arrived in Orzammar a few days prior.

Beaming, Lowena waved at him, unaware that he hadn't seen them, nor was he looking. He ducked his head to the grey-haired hostess and muttered something in her ear. The woman laughed and patted him on the arm before ducking under the counter and grabbing something from behind it. He leaned over the bar and started talking to the girls supervising it; suddenly the girls fell about in giggles just as the hostess passed Alistair a bottle of some amber coloured liquid.

'Ah, Alistair certainly has a way with dwarven women – still,' Alvena laughed as she saw where Lowena was looking. 'He can sweet talk any of them into anything! Of course, it helps that he's married to their Paragon, but I believe they'd risk even her wrath and drop their knickers for him if he just asked.'

'I'm surprised the Commander even allows him out alone when he's here,' Behn chuckled before tipping the last of his ale down his throat. 'Remember what happened when they were last here.'

'Oh Maker, do I? It cost me my position, remember?' Alvena shook her head and rolled her eyes. 'But she hasn't – look the King's men.' The elf motioned to the two men standing on either side of the door; they had come in just after Alistair and looked inconspicuous, but their eyes were trained upon him.

'Evenin' Warden.' A busty young woman walked passed, hips swaying, throwing a wink over her shoulder to Behn, before motioning him to follow her with a nod of her head.

''Scuse me, ladies,' he cleared his throat and stood up, his eyes never leaving the buxom lass. 'Maker, I love that the Paragon married a human.' Alvena laughed as she watched the young man follow the woman into a corner. Lowena's eyes bulged as the woman wasted no time upon pleasantries and jumped into Behn's arms.

'I don't understand...'

'A living Paragon is a rare thing. There have only been a handful of them throughout history and when there is one, people try and live like them. As the Paragon sees a human man worthy as a husband and lover, many dwarven women see it that way too.'

'So it's a fashion statement?'

'And a bloody good one,' chimed in Harry as he also stood and left the table, charmed by another pretty dwarven woman.

'But I don't see any human-dwarven couples in Orzammar, and everywhere I go I'm treated like dirt!'

'Ah,' Justine laughed, watching as the last of the male Wardens with them stood up and left the table as a large group of women entered the tavern. 'Human women are not fashionable, and even if they were, the King does not favour human-dwarven relationships. He's _very_ traditional in that regard.'

Lowena watched Alistair try and hand over a number of coins to the hostess, who flat-out refused to accept them. He smiled warmly at her and gave her a quick bow before leaving the inn. The two guards followed him a moment later.

'Is it because the Commander dumped him for Alistair and he's still bitter?'

'Nyra dumped King Gorim?' Alvena shook her head in confusion. 'Have you not yet gotten to that part of the story?'

'Oh, have you got a surprise!' Justine giggled as she drank heavily from her mug. Lowena shook her head disapprovingly at the Head Warden of Orzammar as she hiccupped on her brew.

'I was supposed to go to see them tonight, but I got a message at the last minute that it had been postponed – again.' Lowena looked at the door wistfully after Alistair, unaware of the glances the other two women shot one another. 'What happened a few years ago? Why does she keep him on a leash?'

'Oh no,' Alvena shook her head. 'That's something for you to ask them about – last time I dabbled in gossip I ended up in the stocks for two days. Not something I'm going to repeat again.'

o-O-o

Alistair quietly closed the door behind him and saw that his wife was still sleeping soundly on the large bed in the middle of the room. The room had once been Nyra's fathers and had been kept just so by Lord Harrowmont as a favour to the paragon when she had made him king.

'I can't wait to leave here,' she muttered, making him jump as he tried to stealthily walk across the room.

'I thought you were sleeping, my love.'

'I was – we still need to work on your creeping skills, beloved.' She looked at him through her fringe as she sat up and rested back against the bed. 'Where've you been off to? Chasing Dwarva women again?'

Alistair's cheeks flared bright red as she reminded him of the trouble he seemed to attract here in the great dwarven capital. Last time they were here, three years ago, she had had to challenge one particularly determined young girl to a Proving after the young woman had managed to infiltrate the Warden compound and find her way to the room that Alistair was napping in. He did not like staying in Nyra's father's rooms without her presence, somehow it just felt wrong.

The girl, of course, had fought tooth and nail, but Nyra had proved too great a match for her and the woman fell. When she had awoken the girl immediately pledged her loyalty to the Paragon and left that day to join the Legion of the Dead. He remembered standing with Nyra watching as the girl entered the Roads, alone.

Up until that moment Nyra had taken the whole thing in good humour, and took the steps that where needed by her people to defend the honour of her House. But the moment those doors banged shut, the sound echoing throughout the commons, something within his wife snapped. She had marched into the compound and tore into Alvena, demanding to know why security had not been sufficient, how one girl had managed to get by all her Wardens and into her _husband's_ room. The elf had only been in charge of the compound for six months, the next day she had left with them for the surface, and Justine had taken her place as Head Warden.

As long as Alistair lived, he would never understand the ways of the dwarven people.

'Where's Lowena? Shouldn't she be here by now?' Nyra asked, trying to see what her husband was holding behind his back.

'I cancelled; sent a messenger to her.' He looked like a child who had done something incredibly naughty and gotten away with it as he approached the bed. 'I thought that perhaps after the busy few days we've had here already, we could spend an evening in, together, alone, drinking.' He pulled out a bottle of Frostback Blend as he stood at the foot of the bed and held it out to her.

Her eyes softened as she looked up at him; oh he was the best husband in the world!

Although the following morning, with her head throbbing and her stomach feeling as if a hundred nugs were churning her insides, she could have cursed him as the Scholar, perfectly posed, pristine and proper, joined them over breakfast, ready to hear one of the hardest parts of the tale for Nyra.

o-O-o

'Why is that dwarf looking at you like that?' Alistair whispered loudly as we picked our way through the armour the store had to offer. The pieces were amazing; they was just what we were after and not too expensive for what they were, but unfortunately still out of our price range for what both Leliana and I needed. Neither I nor the other rogue had armour that was best for fighting; Leliana's was old and worn, patching was becoming required and that meant that it was no longer effective when in serious battle. My own armour, although made by Cailan's armour-smith back in Ostagar, was also causing problems. It was slightly too big, having been adapted from a human-sized set of leathers, and didn't allow me to reach as well as I wanted too.

'Why is this _human_ asking me questions I couldn't possibly know the answer to?' I tossed back over my shoulder as I picked up another spectacular set of leathers that where slightly too much for our purse strings. I didn't have to turn around to know that he was blushing as he muttered a quick apology and went to look at some boots across the small store.

_You could fit a fair few of _them_ in your nug-hole,_ I thought looking at his back before quickly glancing over at the fair haired woman stood behind the counter. Although she was measuring yards of thread, she kept throwing furtive glances my way; glances riddled with worry and a little anger.

Frowning, I put the leathers down and grabbed Alistair, quickly leaving the shop, uneasy that perhaps she recognised me as either Orzammar's exiled princess or as a Grey Warden.

'Let's see what Leliana and Zev found out,' I said squinting up at the bright golden ball in the sky. 'Is it almost the hour?' Although Alistair had been trying to teach me how to tell time through the use of the sun, or the moon, I was still pretty confused by it all. Candles and time pieces were much more effective I thought.

'Not too far off,' he confirmed as he looked at the shadows on the ground. 'If we go now, they may already be there.'

We trotted towards the edge of the Market District only to see them coming the other way. I smiled as Zevran grinned at me. There was something so easy going about him, although I was well aware of what he was after; it was a tactic as old as man and woman. When a woman was in charge, the man simply had to flatter her, allow her to think he was in awe of her; eventually, as she allowed her guard to fall, and he won her ear, his own ideas would start to be considered, and ultimately though her he would be the one in charge, finally leading to her betrayal and demise. Many women had also played the game; in fact, they had taught it to the men over the centuries. When once they were oppressed by the male population, it was a way to break free. I allowed him to play his little game, allowed him to believe that I was indeed flattered by his attentions, but I had planned to play him at his own sport.

'Ah, there is the beautiful commander,' he greeted me; Leliana rolled her eyes in exasperation, but I knew that she was slightly sweet upon our latest recruit. Although we were not great friends, I had held my part of the bargain I had made with Alistair and had tried to acquaint myself with her better. I had been correct in assuming she was not as simple as I first thought and had, in a former life, been a bard not a minstrel. At first I thought that this had meant she had been an assassin, but it transpired she preferred the game of espionage; acquiring secrets through the art of seduction and intelligence. I was still not completely comfortable with her, regarding her background, but it would come in useful whilst here within the city.

Cast as outlaws, Alistair and I ran the risk of being apprehended at any moment, and had forgone our armours and left them back at the small hidden campsite outside of Denerim with Sten and Bert. Instead we now favoured simple common clothing, and thick cloaks with hoods to hide our faces if needs be. I liked the cloak that Leliana and Zevran had stolen for me, it was thick and blue in colour, and was so much warmer to wear than my leathers. I was certainly going to be keeping and wearing it from now on, which had met with Wynne's approval. I spied the two mages on the other side of the district, keeping themselves inconspicuous as they bartered for food for our stores.

'Have you heard anything?' I questioned.

The pair's eyes shimmered with excitement as they began to recant the secrets they had learned. Talks of civil war hung about the city after Teyrn Loghain had called a Landsmeet just a few months prior and declared himself Queen Anora's Regent. A young noble, Bann Teagan Guerrin, had stood up to him, causing other nobles to question and murmur against the act.

Since then talks of surviving Grey Wardens, declaring their innocence in the matter of treason against young King Cailan and bent on seeking vengeance against the Teyrn, had arisen and supposed 'supporter groups' had started meeting throughout the city – although no one knew where, and those that went looking, never seemed to return.

'Some,' Leliana recounted, 'say that they have become Grey Wardens and joined in a secret rebellion against Loghain and are determined to see the crown taken from him and given to the First Warden, who is supposedly on his way from the Anderfels to stop the Blight himself!'

'Of course, that is what those who believe that a Blight is happening are saying,' Zevran continued. 'There are many people who do not believe that there is one, that it is all a conspiracy between the Wardens and this Loghain, who has since betrayed them.' He looked at us with admiration in his eyes. 'I have to say, my friends, you have caused many wagging tongues in such a short space of time. The Crows would be envious.'

I was impressed with the information they had gathered, although some of it sounded no more than idle gossip of bored wives with nothing more to do, or confused people who were beginning to question what they heard and then decided to fill in the blanks themselves.

'Perhaps we should...' Leliana's voice was lost to my ears as another voice, a voice so familiar to me I could hear it in my sleep and still know who it was, assailed them. It carried through the Market, over the hustle and bustle of shoppers and browsers, over women chattering as they met on the dusty streets and the screams of children as they ran through the stalls, ducking and diving out of the way of their friends who wanted to catch them.

I couldn't make out the words, but I heard him, he was here_. He was here!_ My breath shortened as my head whipped around looking at the different stalls and the shop doorways, but there was no one, no one that could be him.

Without a word to the others, forgetting why I was even there, I drifted away from them, distracted by the calls the voice made.

_Is it him? _I questioned, suddenly wondering if I might be wrong. It had been over four months since I had seen him, heard him; what if in that time I had forgotten? _And_ _what is he doing calling through the streets? Should I even be-_

'Dwarven Crafts! Fine dwarven crafts!' I turned my head as the voice became clear, the words finally decoding as they reached my ears and dug deep into my brain. It _was _his voice, but still I could not see where he was. 'Direct from Orzammar, you won't find better!' His voice was filled with pride and determination; I believed his words, but did not believe what they meant. Gorim Saelac, my Second, one of the highest ranking of the Warrior Caste, was _selling_ wares, like a merchant?

Finally a group of people moved and I spied him through those remaining. Tall humans in shining armour peered at the sample wares that were spread upon the stall. The name of the store he represented written in large letters above it – the store that Alistair and I had not long left. My breath caught and my head spun as I tried to process everything that was suddenly happening.

When we had entered the city I had been prepared that he may be within its walls still, but I had doubted he would be waiting in the Market District as he had promised, yet here he was. My lungs filled with air as I realised he had kept his promise. He was waiting for me. He _hadn't _cast me aside. Tears filled my eyes as I sighed with relief; I had kept my heart for him too, when I had been close to giving it away-

'That's him isn't it?' Alistair's rich voice caused me to jump as he and the two rogues joined me. His eyes focused on my Second and I saw the flicker of jealousy within them. He assessed Gorim, wondering what this man had that he didn't. He nodded at some thought hidden deep within his head before he turned back to look at me; his beautiful whisky coloured eyes had a soft sadness to them, yet he offered me a smile, showing he supported me no matter what.

Tearing my eyes from his, I turned back to my Second. He was slightly thinner than he had been before we had been exiled, his eyes carried a tiredness to them, and his shoulders were not as square as I remembered. He still stood straight and carried himself with the pride of his caste, but there was something about him that wasn't right.

'This is your love?' Leliana's voice broke my thoughts again as she realised what we had been speaking about. After climbing down the hidden high road from Soldier's Peak, Alistair advised us we were only a day away from where we had planned to meet the others almost two weeks prior. We made our way there to see if they were still within the vicinity and as luck would have it they had been camping just outside of the village waiting to hear from us after hearing that the road had been blocked.

After introducing Zevran to the party, which had excited Leliana and annoyed Morrigan, I felt I had to confess who the sword belonged to seeing as it had caused so many problems. Morrigan, of course, had huffed about love causing weakness, Leliana had sighed and cooed about how romantic it was, Zevran had admired the sword, a sadness flickering in his eyes for the briefest moment before he offered to 'make me happy', while Sten and Wynne had said nothing.

'Well what are you waiting for? Go to him!' She tried to nudge me slightly but I held firm, my feet refusing to move, even if I had wanted them too.

'Oh no,' Morrigan's disdainful voice sighed as she and Wynne located us. 'Please tell me that is not your worthless Second.'

I had imagined this moment for months; our reunion, when finally he would be at my side again. I had been happy, ecstatic to have his arms around me, to have him at my side, finally able to be ourselves openly. But now the time had come I was scared; scared of his reaction to my presence. What if he no longer wanted me? What if he had found another? What if he had never really loved me at all? I shook my head and took another needed breath.

'Here.' Alistair withdrew the sword he had hidden from under his cloak; Gorim's sword – I had asked him to bring it just in case; now it was a matter of fact. He was here, and I had his sword. I felt the blade being put into my hands as my eyes held onto my Second as he spoke to man after man who enquired about his wares. He had yet to spot me.

Perhaps if he saw me first, perhaps if he just looked at me and our eyes met, he would come to me, he would smile and rush to my side, his arms outstretched, picking me up and spinning me around, like my maids had described the hero of their silly romantic books doing at the end of their tales.

But it didn't happen. More people joined around his stall, blocking him from my sight once again.

I looked down at my hands, suddenly aware of the weight of the blade I held. His sword, the sword I had spent hundreds of heavy gold coins upon, the sword he had sworn to treasure always, to cling to as he clung to me, as I held his heart.

Anger started to boil within me. How could he have done this?

My fingers traced the inscription, as I glared at him, my heart had been open to him for all to see, risking my reputation, my standing, if anyone had gotten a good look at it and put the pieces together. I had risked that for him thinking I was destined to be with him always, that we would get our happily-ever-after, as the maids had called the happy endings of their exotic romances. Yet he had abandoned me to walk the Roads alone and then cast me aside for coin once upon the surface; he had probably cursed me for his misfortune, for the loss of his caste and family.

Blood dripped through my fingers as, without realising it, I squeezed the blade, my fingers trying to curl into fists.

'Nyra!' Alistair reached down do take the sword from me as he saw what I was doing, but I snatched it away. My eyes as hard as the steel colour they were, I gripped the hilt of the blade, not feeling the pain that my fingers were obviously experiencing as the adrenaline from my fury took over my body.

The people around his stall parted again and I saw him. He was laughing, carefree and easy, at something the human men said and suddenly my feet began to move of their own accord. I felt the hood of my cloak fall as I strode quickly towards him, my loose hair falling down my back, the breeze whipping it around me.

'Nyra-'

'Don't, Alistair,' Leliana told him, gently grabbing his arm as he made to step after me.

'She needs to do this, my friend,' Zevran's voice held a hint of the same sadness I had seen in his eyes when he thought that no one was looking as he gazed at the sword I kept beside my tent – the same sword that I was dragging beside me now.

Gorim was still talking to the human when I found myself in front of him. Without hesitation, or word, I threw the sword down at his feet. His eyes moved from the human to the floor, widening as his gaze fell upon the blade. He seemed to freeze, like a nug caught in the candle light; panic, fear, shame, all graced his features before he turned his head slowly, painfully slowly, to see who had thrown his dishonour at his feet.

He shook his head in disbelief; his face paled, as his eyes raked over me, as if he had seen a ghost come to haunt him. 'No, you're dead – the Wardens- It cannot be-'

'You bastard!' I threw at him as I lashed out with my fist, catching him square on the jaw and spending him sprawling. 'How could you? How could you dishonour me?' The small number of men around us grew larger as shoppers from other stalls stopped and stared at the scene being caused by the two Dwarva within their capital. 'Being exiled wasn't enough to disgrace your family name; you break the bond between that of first and second?'

He groaned and held his hand to his jaw, his eyes cast to the ground as admonished him. 'I commissioned that blade for your hand alone. It was meant to fall with you, thrown into the heart of Orzammar, or buried beside me – what you did...what you...you...' I roared in frustration, the anger within me bubbling, threatening to spill out. I made towards him, ready to beat him senseless, to cause him the same amount of physical pain as he had caused me emotionally. At the last moment I turned away, lest I grab a blade from his table and use it.

'Forgive me,' he pleaded, wincing as he spoke and he cupped his jaw where my fist had struck. 'I meant you no dishonour; I heard of the deaths at Ostagar – the armies, the Wardens, King Cailan – and I was assured you were amongst them. Forgive me, My Lady, but I had no means of survival here, under my current circumstances, without the price that I received for such a tremendous gift.

'I assumed that your large heart would have stretched out its generosity and willed me to survive-'

'_Don't you dare_!' I hissed over my shoulder, watching as he tried to scramble up; his knee gave way and he fell back to the floor. For a split second I made to move towards him, before I stopped, folding my arms and turning away again. 'Don't you dare try and flatter me with sweet words! I will not listen!'

My eyes fell on those who gathered around; my hood had fallen and I realised that they were all getting a good look at my face, but I didn't care, my anger made me oblivious to the danger I was putting myself and my companions in. Rage fuelled my blood, racing it through my body, causing my chest to tighten and ache with each thumb of my pounding heart. I closed my eyes, wincing in pain and reached for my chest, trying to catch breath, trying to calm my anger to slow its quick, painful pace.

I heard Gorim behind me, silenced by my words, trying to get to his feet. I heard him stumble and fall again; this time a man dived forward, offering his hand to help. Curiously I looked back over my shoulder just in time to see him grabbing at a cane leaning against his stall. He thanked the man, and rested his weight upon the stick; his head bowed as he waited for me to either walk away or return to him and settle the matter. People began to walk away as they realised the shouting match was over; I heard mutterings of 'waste of time' and 'should have taken her over his knee' as they all departed.

'What happened?' I asked, nodding towards the cane, after the crowd had trickled away.

'When I left Orzammar, I was set upon by men Bhelen had paid, my leg was badly injured and it healed crooked.' His voice was quiet with shame, yet anger simmered beneath it. 'I will never fight again, but it is good to know that you live still and that-'

'So you cannot join me then?' I looked away from him as his head snapped up. I licked my lips nervously; my plan had always been to have him join me, but when I had found his sword, I had settled on banishing him from my life. Now though, seeing him, hearing his voice...

'No, My Lady. My leg is too weak and I have-'

I turned back to him, his words halting in his throat as our eyes met and I saw them; his feelings still shone within his dark orbs – he was still my Second, I was still his heart – but there was so much sadness and heartbreak within them, so much pain, and I knew that he had gone through much suffering since our exile.

'Oh, Gorim,' I sighed and stepped towards him, my hand reaching up to cup his cheek, stroking gently where I had struck him. He turned into it without hesitation. 'My heart.'

'Nyra,' his voice croaked as tears watered his eyes. 'I have to-'

I halted his words with a kiss. My lips pressed against his softly; a kiss of forgiveness, or at least the first step towards it. It would take time to understand what he had done, but I was willing to take that time, I decided. Eight years was too long to throw it away so quickly.

I sighed as we parted, my eyes fluttering open just in time to see the desire, the need, within his; feelings reopened with the touch of our mouths. His free arm wrapped around me, and pulled me to him as his lips claimed mine. He growled against my mouth, and I parted my own, allowing his tongue to seek entrance as my arms slipped around his neck.

'True love,' I heard Leliana sigh behind me. I froze as I realised my companions were bearing witness to all of this. Gorim felt the hesitation within me and pulled back; his cheeks flushed and his eyes held desire for me, but there was something else within them, something I had seen only once before...

'I am sorry to interrupt, _My Lady,_' Zevran's close voice made me jump. The damn elf was lighter on his foot than I was. Then I realised what he had said and my eyes widened in horror as I understood what Zevran was saying; Gorim may well give my identity away. 'However, there are certain people within the party that are getting hard to restrain.'

I frowned and glanced at Alistair; however he stood a little further back from the group, his face turned away from the sight of my Second and me embracing. I flushed and felt a confusingly guilty knot tightening within the pit of my stomach. The gentle tingle of Alistair's taint tickled my mind causing me to frown for a second in annoyance at the feelings – feelings that had no right being there. However, Zevran cleared his throat and motioned towards a bouncing Leliana.

'Gorim, these are my friends,' I said carefully as the rogue rushed forward. Morrigan and Wynne approached carefully as Zevran bowed to my second. 'This is Zevran – he tried to kill me-'

'What?'

'Ah, it is a great story, my sturdy friend; I will tell you all about it as we all get acquainted.' I rolled my eyes as Zevran winked suggestively at Gorim, who looked at me even more bewildered.

'This is Leliana,' I introduced quickly as she practically pushed Zevran out of the way. Gorim bowed to her, greeting her warmly. 'Morrigan and Wynne.' Again he bowed to each of them. I took a breath and bit my lip as I turned to Alistair who was still standing away from us all. 'And this is Alistair,' I said as I pulled my limping Second towards my fellow Warden. I lowered my voice to a whisper; 'He's also a Grey Warden.'

'Atrast Vala, Alistair,' Gorim greeted him. 'I am happy to see you have stayed with, My-' I nudged him causing him to pause and correct himself without hesitation; always the perfect Second. 'Heart, I owe you a great deal.' Alistair kept his face turned, the hood of his cloak hiding what he did not want Gorim to see.

'I would do anything to ensure she was not hurt,' Alistair returned, his voice measured and hard, a tone I had never heard from him before. The meaning of his words where not lost as they hung in the air. I blushed deeply as Gorim nodded, understanding what Alistair was not saying directly; his eyes flickered to me.

'Gorim!' I breathed in amazement, trying to lighten the mood and to quickly change the topic. 'I cannot believe you are a _merchant! _ Gorim Saelac, a merchant. Will the ancestors roll over in their graves?' He laughed nervously as my companions looked at him with curiosity – I could see the hundreds of questions they were dying to ask. 'Gorim was the finest of the Warrior Caste in Orzammar, he– Oh! How about we all go for a hearty feast, for surely this is a day of celebrating!' I whipped around to face them all; my smile bright and infectious – even Morrigan was managing a ghost of a smile, although the look in her eyes gave me pause for a second.

'We have a Blight to stop and the road will be long, but a day off is certainly called for after the gruelling trek we've had here.'

'It is true then?' Gorim questioned us, his eyes moving from me to Alistair and back again. 'An Archdemon is free?'

'Yes, we are rallying the Dalish, humans and Dwarva to arms to unite against the Blight and – what?' I stopped as his eyes dropped to the sword still lying in the dust in front his stall; his face flushing red beneath his beard.

'My damned leg.' He cursed under his breath. His voice was filled with shame and rage. 'I wish I could join you, but it is good to know that you live still and that-'

'It's okay,' I hurriedly answered, as I moved us slightly away from my friends. At Gorim's words, Alistair had risked taking a glance towards me; his eyes giving away that he was pleased by my Second's words, and I did not want him to hear what I had to say next.

'Gorim, My Heart, you don't think that I would abandon you just because you cannot fight? I thought you thought more of me than that.' I shook my head as he made to speak. 'Enough, we have had enough misunderstandings since I found your blade. I forgive you and I want you in my life still; for almost eight years you have given me your heart and a further two your steadfast loyalty. I have only a little coin, not enough to set us up, but... but...'

His eyes refused to meet mine, tinged with guilt, filling with tears as he looked at his stall. The same look within his eyes that had appeared just minutes before, the same look that he had had all those years ago when-

'What – what have you done?' I whispered as I realised something else was terribly amiss with him. He had always been so open with his words when we were able to speak; he had confessed his love willingly behind closed doors, and even in the open when he was able to whisper in my ear without fear of being overheard. But now he refused to even meet my gaze. My heart plummeted as the tears that had shimmered within his small eyes fell to his cheeks and coursed into his beard.

'Perhaps we can go somewhere... more private?'

'No,' I shook my head. 'You tell me here!' I demanded, my heart racing again in sudden panic and fear, my breath becoming shallow as I wondered what pain his words were going to cause me. He tried to shake his head, his throat swollen with obvious emotion that he couldn't form his words.

'Nyra perhaps-' Leliana's soft voice spoke up, but stopped as Zevran touched her arm and shook his head.

'You tell me, Gorim Saelac, you tell me what you've done. You say the words. You _will_ say them – I want to hear them!' I didn't. I didn't want to hear anything he had to say because I knew what was coming...

'Forgive me,' he whispered. 'I... Nyra I'm sorry, I didn't... I am... Nyra, I am _married_...'

_That _was not what I was expecting.

My eyes widened in shock, at his words. _He didn't just say that... I must still be fevered... _My feet instinctively taking a step back as my still bloodied fingers covered my gasping mouth. I shook my head in disbelief as blood rushed to my ears, drowning out all but a few of his words.

_Thought I was dead. A baby was on the way. Rumours of two surviving Grey Wardens only arrived last week, and he daren't believe it was I... his heart had already been broken enough..._

He was pleading with me, his lips moving, saying the words, but I couldn't hear them. I looked around, looked at anything but him, because his eyes, his broken and haunted eyes, were too much to bear.

'No,' I whispered. 'No, no, no. Oh, no. _No!_ How could you?' I finally screamed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alistair try to move towards me as I yelled at my Second – Leliana and Zevran both stopping him, telling him things I could not hear.

This _wasn't_ happening. He _couldn't_ be married.

'Nyra I-'

'Four months, Gorim, four months! It's been _four sodding months_! How did this happen? Why? No,' I shook my head in fury, my vision blurring with tears that wanted to fall as my heart, pounding wildly within my chest again, threatened to explode into a shower of tiny pieces. _This_ was what it was to die; this was pain like no other I had felt. I thought I had hurt before, when I had found his sword, I thought I had experienced pain, but this...

I tried to regain control on my anger as I saw people stopping again, throwing us glances, muttering, wondering... I ran my hands through my hair, marring it with red streaks from my fingers, as I took a shuddering breath. 'No, I don't want to know.'

'Nyra, I would never have tried to hurt you-'

'You complete and utter _bastard_,' I hissed wiping at my tears furiously. 'Eight years over and done in four months – no, wait,' I paused as something hit me, mentally calculating the time. '_Less_ than four, if she's _already_ expecting! Did I mean so little?' He shook his head and tried to speak; tears causing his voice to stop. 'You... you never really loved me at all.' I breathed. 'I was just a stepping stone... you... you... _noble-hunter!_' I cried out. 'You worthless piece of shit! I hope you and your... fat ugly cow of a wife are happy together!'

I didn't feel the connection of his face against my fist. I hadn't even realised what I had done until I looked down to see him sitting on his behind, his nose held in his hand, eyes on the floor.

I turned to see the others staring at me, questions rife in their eyes. In anguish and frustration I screamed and kicked at the floor, before running past them all and out towards the city gates, pulling the hood of my cloak up to hide my tear-stained face.

o-O-o

_And that's what some of you were waiting for... I hope it lived up to its expectations. Seriously. However, there's more to come yet!_


	20. Chapter XX: Fallout

Chapter Twenty – Fallout

Lowena's eyes widened and her mouth hung open at Nyra's words. 'He... he was _married_ already?' Nyra nodded solemnly. 'But – but... How? Why? What...?' The Scholar sat back in the small chair and stared at the woman in front of her; a hundred questions tumbling through her mind.

She certainly hadn't been expecting _that_ as part of the tale. Married and a baby on the way four months after declaring he would wait forever for her, his 'Heart'. From the moment Nyra had mentioned Gorim and their love affair during the first week of recounting their time during the Blight, Lowena had assumed that it was Nyra who had ended the relationship with her Second by running into Alistair's strong arms. Not that the scholar would have blamed her.

Justine and Alvena had been right in saying the truth would surprise her. Perhaps this was what changed the Commander's wanton ways; after her heart was broken she found true love in her now husband's arms. Lowena looked at the older woman; her eyes fell behind the Scholar, gazing far into the past, as old, painful memories, memories buried deep within the recesses of her mind, came to the surface.

'Nyra didn't take the news too well,' Alistair spoke softly. 'She went right back to camp after the... incident in the Market District; remember when we said about pots and pans being thrown about...?'

o-O-o

'Who the fuck do you think you are?' Nyra screamed as she threw a pan towards the bard's head. It missed by barely an inch, and the red-head internally thanked the Maker that it hadn't been one of the dwarf's throwing blades. 'Your kind were expelled from Orzammar for what you did to my mother! I ought to have slit your pretty little throat when you admitted to being just a minstrel!'

'Nyra, I did not mean to-'

'Lies, spying,_ murder_,' Nyra hissed accusingly at the woman, edging closer to her with another pan held high above her head. 'I bet your seduced your targets first before you ended their lives didn't you!' Leliana took another step back, her hands held up begging Nyra to realise she was no threat.

'Nyra,' Morrigan's cool voice tried to get the younger woman's attention. 'Leliana did not kill your mother – you are angry at your ex-lover not her-'

'He wouldn't _be_ my ex-lover if you were half the witch your mother is!' Nyra flung back at the raven-haired beauty. Knowing of the rocky relationship the witch professed to have with her mother, the comment was meant to sting, however Morrigan's cold demeanour didn't change.

'And how would that have helped to avoid this situation.'

'You could have turned into a giant bird and flown us to Denerim from the Wilds!' Nyra shouted, although the witch was only feet away from her.

'I am _not_ a carrier pigeon,' the woman huffed. 'If you must act in this pathetic manner I will go and spend my time elsewhere until you decide to come to your senses. He is only a man after all – men are replaceable.'

'You heartless _bitch_,' Nyra sneered as Morrigan turned away from her and strode into the woods and out of sight. 'Don't bother coming back!' She screamed after her, throwing the pan in the direction the witch had disappeared.

Alistair watched from a distance as the beautiful dwarf he had desired for months, who was usually so calm and collected, screamed and swore at the rest of the party, who had followed her back, and felt part of his own heart break. Although he had stood a little apart from her as Gorim had told her of his new wife and child on the way, he had witnessed the moment her heart had broken.

Her eyes had been shining with genuine happiness and excitement at the thought of her lover joining them or even just being with him again. Then, with just a few words from her Second's lips, he had seen all that happiness, all that joyous excitement bubbling inside of her, snatched away; her eyes widening, horror creeping within them and then-

_No._

It had been one word, one word of many, but it was with that one word that he had seen her heart shatter. Her face crumpled in pain, her heart fracturing into a million tiny pieces within her eyes, the tears falling upon her porcelain cheeks, and his own heart had broken with hers. He had wanted to reach out to her, to take her in his arms, strike down her Second and ensure that he could never hurt her again – that _no-one_ would ever hurt her again.

But Leliana and Zevran had stopped him, they'd held him back as she had screamed at her love, as she hit him, and he cursed them both as they refused to allow him to follow her immediately after she had stormed past them all, her face and hair marred with blood from her injured hand. Everything within him screamed that he was supposed to be holding her, wiping away her tears as she buried her head into his chest and sought comfort within his arms. Leliana and Wynne knew better though; _women_ were what their dwarven friend needed right now – or so they had thought.

He almost smiled as a plate caught Leliana in the shins and Wynne had to duck quickly to avoid the frying pan that sailed through the air.

He shook his head as Zevran tried to step in, only to have his genitalia threatened.

'Screw you all!' Nyra shrieked as she threw her daggers towards the elf – they missed him and drove deep into the log at the side of the camp fire. 'Screw all of you! You... you... _Surfacers_! All you men are complete arseholes, one way or another!' she ranted, trying to pull her blades back out of the wood as she stared the elf down. 'My brother betraying me, my father believing him, Gorim leaving me, _you_ constantly trying to seduce me, Alistair trying to... to... Alistair when he... when he... Alistair...' With a final huff she gave up trying to pull her daggers out and slumped down in front of the fire, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her misery.

Quietly, without them ever knowing he was there, Alistair turned and headed back into the city.

o-O-o

A small bell jingled as Alistair opened the door to the shop that he had been in earlier that day. The front of the shop was empty, but remnants of an argument could be heard from behind a closed door leading into what he believed would be the private quarters of the dwarven family he had come to speak to.

The door to the back suddenly opened and a gruff voice shouted, 'We're closed!' before shutting it again.

'Gorim Saelac?' Alistair called out tentatively. A bang resonated behind the door and the arguing stopped. A second later the door in front of him opened and the auburn haired dwarf stood within its frame. He peered up at Alistair, a frown on his face as if he recognised the man before him, but he wasn't sure how or from where.

'What can I do for you?' the man huffed. 'I told you we were closed.'

'You don't recognise me? My name is Alistair, I travel with-'

'Nyra,' the dwarf breathed, taking him in again. 'You're the other Grey Warden?' Alistair nodded. 'She sent you here to finish me off?'

'What?'

'Would be well within her right to do so – my wife too in all honesty; deal with me, I beg you to spare her and my child, the babe is innocent in all this.' The older man hung his head, seemingly willing to forsake his life for what he had done. Alistair shook his head in bewilderment. Were all dwarves so honourable? Willing to own up to their mistakes so quickly and accept the consequences? Then he remembered that the two had been supposedly falsely accused of murder, betrayed by Nyra's family and exiled apart from one another.

'Although you certainly deserve a good drubbing, I'm not here to kill you; Nyra doesn't even know that I'm here.' The dwarf sighed with relief and sank onto a stool behind the counter. He rubbed his hand over his face wearily, taking a moment before speaking again.

'I wish everything had happened differently. If I had just been sent to the Roads with her or her to the surface with me... things would have been so different. It's all Bhelen's fault, that traitorous _bastard_!' Alistair jumped as the man slammed his fist down onto the counter, his eyes hard, as a sneer graced his tired features.

'Bhelen is her younger brother?'

'Yes,' Gorim nodded, his thoughts still far away from the store they occupied. 'So why are you here?' the man asked, suddenly back to the present. 'If she hasn't sent you to deal with me, what do you want?'

'I want to know_ why_?' Alistair told him.

Gorim sighed, his hand rubbing his tired eyes. 'What right is it of yours to ask?' He motioned for Alistair to sit, and the young Warden knew that he was going to tell him regardless of his answer; the burden of guilt always too much for a good man to bear.

Alistair looked Gorim direct in the eye as he stepped around the counter and took a seat opposite the dwarf. 'I have a heartbroken woman destroying our camp, threatening friends who want nothing more than to comfort her and who I'm frightened is just going to give up on everything we've been working towards. She doesn't know why you've broken her heart and she has the right to know, and I'm the only way she's going to find out. I honestly don't see her coming running to you any time soon do you?

'Why did you do it? _How _could you do it, especially to her?' Alistair asked.

Gorim looked him over. For a second Alistair thought it looked as if the dwarf recognised him, from another time or place, a slight crease in his brow showed the man's own confusion. Finally the man spoke; 'You care for her, don't you? I heard what you said out there, and now you're here, not for the sake of your friends, not for your cause, but for her.' The Templar-trainee looked away, a slight pink tingeing his cheeks. 'It's nothing to be ashamed about, Warden, I know how you feel.' The older man sighed.

'You know, I resented her at first. You see she's ten years my junior and in Orzammar that's a big difference between a true First and Second. Second's are usually a few years older than the First, as they're suppose to help guide them through the first steps of adulthood. We come of age at fourteen in Orzammar, able to marry, drink and train practically for our positions, be it as a warrior, smith or some other profession. At sixteen we're able to undertake our chosen role.

'My father had served her father well, and they had always hoped that their children would work together. But my mother had trouble conceiving and I was born too late for the cr- Trian, her older brother.'

Alistair frowned, wondering what the other man had been going to say. He had noticed that when talking about her past Nyra often paused over her choice of words, she had nudged her Second in the Market District as he had been about to say something, and now he was hesitating; What was she hiding?

_Noble-hunter! _Nyra's voice screaming the word at the man before him rang through his mind for a second. Where had he heard that word before?

_Noble men are able to bed as many noble-hunters – luxury whores – as they see fit. _His eyes widened as he looked at the man before him. Suddenly so many things made sense. The way she spoke and held herself, far more polished and elegant than any knight or Bann he had ever spoken to; even Teyrn Loghain did not speak as well as she did, until she lost her temper of course, and then all that refinement went out the window.

The way she fought too; her style sophisticated, fluid and graceful. Her steps quick and sure as if she had been given time to practice them repeatedly, unlike someone from the street who made them up as they went along. He reasoned that the army could have taught her that, but something just screamed that more attention had been paid to her skills.

And then there was her ability to talk politics. She enjoyed speaking to Sten and Zevran a great deal regarding the structure of their lands, how their politics worked and how their people lived. Common folk had governments of other lands far from their mind unless they threatened to invade. She also seemed to already know most of the Ferelden nobility, understanding that after the Theirins the next family to take the throne would probably be the Couslands, or possibly the Guerrins, after that the Landsmeet would be split, each Bann nominating his own Arl.

When he asked why Loghain wasn't the next option after Bryce Cousland, or Eamon Guerrin, she had snorted and said that it was the exact reason why talk of civil war hung in the air – regardless of what station he had been promoted to, or what acts he had achieved during the rebellion, he was nothing more than a farmer's son. A great warrior, sound tactician – supposedly – but a potential king? No way. He remembered her shaking her head over-enthusiastically at that; her long white hair falling wildly around her shoulders as she gazed up at him, an amused smile pulling at her lips, and he had realised that no matter what happened, he was never going to care about anyone more than he cared about her.

'In the square she called you a noble-hunter; she's a noble isn't she?' Gorim blinked rapidly, his mind quickly calculating a dozen answers to give him. 'She told me a while back that noble men are able to bed noble-hunters; thus I deducted she's of nobility. That's why she was exiled, right?'

The older man seemed to war with himself for a moment before his shoulders fell. 'I want to protect her still, I want to fulfil my role – it's all I have known throughout my life! But I can't anymore... I'm no longer her Second.' The realisation of such a thing appeared to hit the dwarf hard. He stared at the counter, as his own words sank in.

'I was nine when it was announced her mother was expecting her – my father rushed to Endrin to offer my services. I was furious when the contracts were agreed. I had another fourteen years to wait to take my position when my friends only had five or six years left. I felt she was holding me back and for the first few months of our time together I looked at her with contempt; I felt like a babysitter rather than a Second, she was so much younger. She worked hard to prove me wrong though and little by little I fell in love with this young, wilful and determined woman... Ten years, ten years at her side...

'It's not supposed to end this way,' he looked up at Alistair, his eyes filled with sorrow. 'One of us is supposed to fall before we're parted.' He looked grimly to his leg. 'Although I suppose, injury also causes some separation.'

'You,' he leaned over and grasped Alistair's forearm tightly. 'You will have to take my place. At her side as Second. She needs someone, Warden, she's never been on her own... even as a child.' He let go of Alistair's arm and turned to look at the door back to his private quarters. 'I can't be her Second anymore, but I will do what I can. It is up to her to tell you everything when she's ready, but yes,' he sighed, 'she is of noble blood and birth.'

'And you're not – that's why you and she couldn't marry?' Gorim nodded again. 'Well that makes a lot more sense; she's pretty useless at talking to everyday people you know, can't barter to save her life. She almost gave all our money to highway men because they told her they were road tax collectors.' Gorim looked at him for a second before bursting out in laughter.

'That sounds like her,' he chuckled. 'I did a lot of talking on her behalf in Orzammar when we went to the Commons; she's great at manipulating nobility though.'

Alistair shuddered as he remembered her describing how she would order the deaths of those who crossed her. And then another thought popped into his head.

'Do you miss Orzammar?'

The older man nodded, before standing up and moving to a small cabinet at the far end of the counter. He pulled two small mugs and a half filled bottle of whisky from it. Pouring two fingers he placed one in front of the young Warden and knocked his own back.

'This is Frostback Blend.' He poured himself a second as Alistair sampled the drink.

'Nice and smooth,' the younger man declared before downing the rest. Gorim poured him another.

'Didn't take you for a drinker, lad.'

'I admit I am not a great drinker of Ale or Wine, but I appreciate a fine whisky. However, I've never had one as fine as this.'

That made the dwarf laugh heartily. 'And you probably never will again! Corra will go berserk if she finds out this is getting to the surface. Miss Orzammar you ask? Course I do. How would you feel if you were sent to Orzammar for the rest of your life, never to see the sun again? Or feel the wind blowing through your hair?'

'I see your point.' He took another sip of the fine liquor as he mulled something over. 'I think Nyra misses it. I mean she constantly complains about the surface and its residents, mutters under her breath about the weather and makes it very well known that she's freezing of a night. But that's just her coping with changes she's got to make.' Gorim nodded his understanding. 'What really makes me think she longs to go back is that she sits for hours just staring at the flames of our camp fire, and if we find a certain kind of boulder or cliff, she'll run her hand over it and it's as if her thoughts are deep within the stone she's caressing.'

'I can understand that. When I get a day to myself I often walk out of the city limits and look for the stone. We are connected to it, it holds our history and our strength; it sings to us, supports us, tells us we can go on.'

'I don't think the others have noticed, but of a night, when the sun is setting, she watches it until it disappears below the horizon and it almost looks as if she's saying goodbye to something far in the distance. It was a little while before I realised that Orzammar lies in the Mountains the sun dips behind.'

'You _really_ care for her, don't you, Warden.'

'Please, call me Alistair, and yes, very much so.' He felt his cheeks burning, but he held the man's eyes as he confessed his feelings. Again Gorim frowned as if he recognised him, his head tipping to one side, his eyes squinting slightly.

'You know, there was another man in her life once before,' Gorim spoke slowly, as if he wasn't sure he should say what he wanted to say. 'A human.' Alistair's eyes widened in surprise. 'He was also of noble birth and wanted her to return to the surface with him. That was one crazy week. I had never seen her so reckless, dancing with him at the palace, walking through the city as if they were betrothed.'

'I bet when he asked her to leave she ran a mile.'

'No, she packed her bags.'

'What?' he spluttered half his drink over the counter; without some much as flicker of an eyelash Gorim poured him another.

'I had known for a while that she had feelings for me, and I shared them, but it was not my place to take her heart and so I hid them and did nothing to encourage her own. She was still young and naive in the ways of love, I didn't want to hurt her, or risk losing my position and her in the process.'

'I thought you said you could get married at fourteen?'

'Yes, you can, if your father wishes you too, but it is generally the lower castes, and dusters, who do so. Nobility tend to wait a few more years – they want to secure the best matches for the best prices.' His voice was hard. 'It tore me apart to think that she could just be some bargaining chip for another noble to gain a higher standing in the assembly.

'Anyway, when this _human..._' He looked up at Alistair sheepishly. 'Sorry, old habits.' Alistair waved it off. 'So her bags are packed and I've wandered in and realised what she's doing, suddenly everything just comes pouring out. How I love her, how she means everything to me, that I do my job not because of my duty but because I want to be with her, always.' He knocked back another shot of the amber drink, his cheeks flaming red under his auburn beard. Never had he confessed such things to anyone before.

'She picked you over the human?'

'No, she picked Orzammar.' Gorim looked his fellow warrior in the eye. 'That was the day that Nyra grew up, in some ways, not in all. She realised where she stood, she earned her commission, took captaincy and dedicated her time to the military as her father had always desired. After the young man left, however, she fell apart. Oh her military career was set, but her heart... she had always known that her love life was never going to be her own to choose, but I don't think that until that moment she had realised exactly what that meant.

'She threw herself at me – not _just _me – but, unlike her, I wasn't inexperienced, I had taken my knocks in the heart department before. I spent months keeping her away from men, ensuring none got so close as to tarnish her reputation...' The man sighed. 'She'll try and bed you, Alistair, mark my words. If you care for her, give her time to heal, be her friend. She will treasure that more than any quick bed fellow, believe you me-'

'I would never-' Another burst of laughter from the dwarf cut his words short.

'Oh, trust me, if Nyra wants you in her bed, it will take your Maker himself to stop her from getting you in it.'

Alistair felt his cheeks burning at the thought of Nyra propositioning him, and, if he was truly honest with himself, he wanted her to. He had dreamt of holding her against him, taking their time as they explored one another, before joining in the most beautiful way that a man and woman could. But he didn't want just her body – he wanted her heart as well.

'Give her time, Alistair, and you will never regret it. I just wish I had given her the same after Ostagar... if I had just believed in her, given her time...' Alistair saw the tears shimmering in the older man's eyes and he began to explain exactly what had happened since he had left Orzammar.

o-O-o

'You _never_ said that... did you?' Nyra asked looking aghast at Gorim who taken the seat next to her a little while ago. Lowena picked up a warm roll as she looked at the pair across the table. His description of the Commander's behaviour didn't surprise her; surely the Commander didn't think herself a visage of purity did she?

The King's rich laughter interrupted the Scholar's thoughts. 'I certainly did!' He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. Lowena noted that he didn't let go, and glanced towards the Commander's husband, surprised by the amusement that shone in his eyes at the memory.

'Nyra,' the King continued. 'It took me the strength of the Ancestors to resist you during that time. How many times did I go to your room after hours, knowing that you'd accept me willingly? How many times did I go only to walk away again? How many nights did I dream of winning your hand at a Proving, of being able to openly declare my love for you, only to awaken and weep that I never could?'

Nyra bit the inside of her cheek, the sadness in her old friend's eyes always touched her, always made her heart ache when he spoke of things that he had always desired but never gained. She squeezed his hand tightly, as she tried to swallow the lump of emotion held in her throat.

Lowena's head whipped back to Alistair, who looked at the King with pity; not a trace of jealousy in his eyes. In the twenty-seven years they had been together as a couple, never once had he ever had concern of her faithfulness; the same, however, could not be said about him.

'Awkward!' he joked after a moment, causing his wife to release her friend's hand and turn to her husband. She leaned up and gently grasped at his chin, bringing his lips to hers for a quick kiss.

'Anyway, Lowena,' Alistair turned his attention back to the Scholar. 'Gorim explained everything that had happened to him since his exile, and I returned back to camp to try and explain to Nyra why she had been... what's a nice word for dumped...?'

o-O-o

She was in exactly the same spot when Alistair returned, just as dusk was settling upon them. The others, however, sat shivering in various parts of what remained of their set up. Two of their six tents had been destroyed before he had ventured upon the camp that afternoon, the canvases torn and stakes snapped.

Leliana was sitting outside her still-erected tent, fur wrapped around her shoulders and pretending to read the book he had found in Lothering about Andraste's Ashes; her eyes were firmly fixed upon the white-haired woman staring at the flickering fire. All traces of the ditzy lay sister had been removed from her countenance and instead he saw the shrewd bard Nyra insisted she was.

Zevran was polishing an already extremely shiny blade, his eyes also fixed upon their usually calm and collected leader. Wynne was preparing the game that Sten had brought back hours before behind the row of tents that remained, while the Qunari sat on the other side of the fire, keeping it burning for the woman who had freed him months before.

Alistair frowned. From what Alistair understood of his culture and beliefs, women were meant to be administrators, not fighters, and as such Sten did not spend a lot of time around women, yet he spent a great deal of time around Nyra. Whereas the other women had to make the effort to speak to the giant, he would sit with the dwarf without prompting or request. He was pretty sure that he saw Nyra as a curiosity and was determined to unpick her, her position and authority a conundrum to him. 

'She hasn't moved all day,' Zevran's silky Antivan voice whispered in Alistair's ear, causing the warrior to jump.

'Maker!' Alistair breathed. 'Will you _stop _sneaking up on me!' He swore the elf took great pleasure in surprising him, and that it was his new method of trying to kill him by heart attack.

'She has been that way all evening,' the elf continued as if he hadn't heard Alistair's complaint. 'Just staring into the fire – every so often she mutters a curse upon the male populace, but she doesn't move otherwise.'

'Bastards!' Nyra muttered, confirming Zevran's comments. Alistair noticed that she held her left hand to her chest, her fingers were no longer bleeding, but they had not been tended to. Blood was smeared across her face where she had wiped at the tears that had left tracks down her cheeks.

'I see her hand still hasn't been seen to.'

'_That_ is what caused all this,' Zevran said, holding up his perfectly polished blade in the dim light and inspecting it before sliding it across his back and into its hold. He leant casually against a tree near to them and focused his attention on Alistair. 'When we got back here, she was already trying to dismantle her tent; she called to us to start packing up camp, that we had to find the Dalish and get this whole thing over with. Wynne offered to try and heal her hand then she went into a rage and destroyed her tent and the other as well, cursing everyone, the surface, her brothers, her father, that Gorim, me.'

'I know, I heard.' The elf raised one perfectly groomed brow at the comment. 'I went to speak to Gorim-'

'I hope you beat him senseless.'

Alistair shook his head. 'I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of it, but no, I went to talk to him, to find out what exactly had happened to cause all... _this_.' He waved his hand over the camp. Zevran leaned over slightly and sniffed the air.

'You've been drinking.'

'A couple of drams of whisky, that's all, just while he spoke.'

'Fucking arseholes!' Nyra's voice carried over to them again, a little louder than it had been as she threw one of her throwing blades into a tree to her right. The pair winced, both knowing where Nyra really wanted to land it.

'Pack up camp,' Alistair commanded the elf, his eyes not leaving the once again still dwarf.

'What's left of it, at least,' Zevran muttered. 'Are we to start out on the road tonight?'

'No,' Alistair shook his head. 'I secured us rooms in the Moonlight Inn. We have three nights there. I'll go talk to her and try and get her to calm down.'

'It has been nice knowing you. Perhaps if you kill each other I will be able to return to Antiva?' He winked at the younger Warden.

'One more thing, Zevran,' Alistair stepped towards the elf, who showed no outward sign of being intimidated by him. 'Stay away from Nyra while she's like this.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I mean it. I hear the things you say to her, the way you flirt-

'Is someone jealous that I'm not paying them enough attention?'

Alistair's eye twitched as the elf smirked. 'I don't want you using her vulnerable state to get into her bed, understand?'

'I do, but I do not see what concern it is of yours what she does. From what I have seen on our travels together you two are merely friends, no? Oh, I _see_.' He looked up at Alistair with a smirk. '_You _intend to use her vulnerable state to get to get into her bed. You are wishing to lose your virginity yes? If you just ask me, I would be happy-'

His voice was cut off as Alistair's hand shot out and grabbed him around his throat. The young Warden turned them, holding the elf at arm's length, so that the others could not see what he was doing if they looked.

'Don't you _ever_...' As quickly as he had grabbed the assassin he let him go, taking in a shaking breath while Zevran gulped for air. 'Don't use her, Zev,' he whispered. 'I'm begging you. I don't want her hurt again. She's been through enough.'

'Who's to say that I'd hurt her? Could she not hurt me?'

'You don't have feelings, we both know that.' Something within the elf's eyes flared to life at that comment.

'You know, if you hadn't told me to leave her be, I probably would have, but now it is a challenge.' The assassin barely managed to dodge the fist that was thrown at him as Alistair let out an angry roar. 'You'll have to be quicker than that, my friend,' he mocked and melted into the shadows. Alistair cursed furiously under his breath; he thought it was brilliant when Nyra did that, but when Zevran performed the task it was just plain annoying. Nyra had tried to teach him it a number of times, but unfortunately it appeared that Alistair's big feet and broad shoulder's made him completely inept at the art of shadow dancing, as she called it.

He closed his eyes trying to calm himself – _She'll be angrier if you kill him, _he tried to tell himself – before he turned back to the camp, his eyes focused on the woman he had been trying to help and understand since they'd met. Taking a deep breath he tentatively made his way towards her.

'Piss off,' Nyra threw at him. 'I'm not in the mood and I don't want a reason to be angry at you too.' Alistair swallowed as he thought of telling her about speaking to Gorim and threw a glance at Sten who raised his eyebrow as he poked the fire again, trying to get air beneath it to feed the flames.

'A lady should never swear.' Alistair paused as her shoulders tensed, her fingers flexing for a moment and he realised what his words could mean.

_If Nyra has not revealed her nobility to you, then you do not know. Understand?_ Gorim had advised him before he had left. _Do not _make_ her reveal herself to you; she will do so when the time is right, and if she never does, then you at least you will understand her slightly better than she will ever know. _

'Do you ever hear Leliana, Wynne or even Morrigan cursing?' he asked, and wanted to smile as he saw her shoulders relax slightly.

'Leliana swears in Orlesian all the time,' she muttered a moment later. Alistair looked over at the bard in surprise.

'So that's why people always say, pardon my Orlesian when they swear,' he chuckled. Nyra threw him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes, before turning back to the fire. 'I've secured us three nights' lodgings in the city.'

'Not going.'

'Yes you are.' He gingerly moved a bit closer to her, stopping when she cast him a look out of the corner of her eye that suggested she may still murder someone. For a brief second he thought he saw the woman she had been in Orzammar, capable of ordering the death of someone without hesitation or remorse.

'Are you going to make me, Chantry-boy?' she challenged. He grunted slightly at the nickname she spat at him. 'I didn't think so.' She turned back to the fire when he didn't say anything.

Morrigan appeared from nowhere, walking past the fire with a confident stride, her head high, as if the afternoon hadn't transpired and she was just as welcome within the camp as she had always been. The witch pushed a small bundle into Alistair's hand as she went, not stopping to see if he would accept the package or not. Frowning he opened the small purse she had forced upon him and groaned when he saw a roll of linen bandages and two vials.

_She doesn't expect me to talk her out of this mood _and_ tend her hand does she? _He glanced over to Morrigan's area to see her already packing her belongings. Glancing around the camp he saw both Zevran and Leliana quickly look away, innocently finding the logistics of packing away a couple of tents more interesting than the two of them. Wynne was bristling about wasted food, and he didn't want to incur the wrath of two women this evening.

Glancing back to the fire he saw the Qunari staring up at him, his eyes as stoic as ever.

'Sten, we're staying in Denerim-'

'Someone must stay with Warden Nyra.'

'Nyra's coming with us,' he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He had drunk a few more measures of the dwarven whisky then he wanted to admit and although he was usually fine with the liquor it was starting to make him feel tired, and after the day they'd had he was desperate to climb into bed, especially when said bed was going to be a _real_ bed and not a bedroll.

'The Warden has said-'

'The Warden is being emotional – I didn't think the Qunari people encouraged emotions to cloud their judgement.' The giant frowned at him and then turned his stare to Nyra, reassessing her.

'You are right,' he finally assented. 'However, do you usually go against your commander's orders? Insubordination is not tolerated within the ranks of the Beresaad either.'

'I'm not being insubordinate!' Alistair protested, looking aghast at the suggestion. 'I thought some proper beds, warm baths and hot home-cooked food would help boost moral... especially after today.'

'Pampering.' The Qunari turned his nose up at the thought. 'A true warrior does not need the fineries you speak of when a war is raging.'

'Sometimes people need to remember why their fighting.' It was Nyra who spoke, her voice soft and quiet as if she didn't want to actually say the words. 'Men can forget why they fight if they do not see the enemy, do not interact with it.'

'How is sleeping within the city, on soft beds and soaking in warm baths helping them to remember the enemy?'

'The Darkspawn are not our only enemy, Sten,' Alistair chimed in, taking a seat on the log that Nyra occupied. He saw her eyes flicker to him but she said nothing of his closer proximity.

'Loghain is as big a threat to this land as the Darkspawn are.' Nyra levelled her eyes at the Qunari. 'The nation is splitting, from what I heard in the city today there are already armies on the march, fighting with some of the Arls who were loyal to Teyrn Cousland. If we don't find a way to discredit him, we will have no army left. Being in the city to gain more information is a strategic move, not a pampering one.'

'_You_,' Sten returned Nyra's gaze. 'Are not as callow as I first thought.' His eyes flickered to Alistair for a second; the younger Warden's back straightened for a moment, until the Qunari rolled his eyes and turned his attention back on the small woman across from him. 'I will pack up my things and partake in this strategic exercise. I have not much experience in information- gathering in this way, but a good warrior should be able to adapt to different situations and changes in circumstances quickly.'

As the giant stood up and left the pair of them, Nyra muttered something that sounded like 'smart bastard' under her breath.

'What?' Alistair asked, shuffling closer to her, hoping she wouldn't notice while her attention was focused on Sten's back as he packed his things.

'He just wanted me to hear a reason to go into the city myself; to understand that I'm not here for Gorim, but for the war on the Darkspawn.'

'He did?' Nyra nodded. 'Smart bastard.' He smirked at her and she couldn't help but return his smile, even if it was only a small one. 'That's better; you're much prettier when you smile.' His smile widened as a slight blush tinged her cheeks and she quickly removed her gaze from his – watching the others leaving the campsite, their bags packed, and heading towards the path back to the capital.

'Give me your hand.' He nudged her gently, trying to get her attention again, as he held out his own to her. She slipped her tiny hand into his palm and he took in a breath. 'Oh, Nyra,' he tutted, shaking his head; although the cuts were deep, they didn't seem to have damaged the nerves or tendons. 'Remember, pointy end of sword for stabbing people, not for holding. You really should have let Wynne have had a go at healing these.'

'What's the point? You know magic doesn't work on me.'

'Sometimes it does. When we get into the city, you're going to let Wynne have a go at it, understand?' She nodded as he gently he applied the soothing balm that Morrigan had slipped him, cleaning the wounds. 'Sorry,' he apologised looking up at her as she winced at his actions. 'It should numb it in a few moments.' The pair sat in silence as Alistair gently tended to the cuts, rubbing in a healing elixir after the balm. He could feel her eyes upon him as he worked, watching him; he felt that she was sizing him up, deciding on something.

'Have you ever kissed a girl?' she asked, her voice husky. The question caught him completely off guard. Where had that come from?

'I.. err...' he looked up for a second, her gaze hung on his lips, as her tongue swiped at her own. He swallowed as he remembered Gorim's warning; _if Nyra wants you in her bed, it will take your Maker himself to stop her from getting you in it. _Taking a deep breath he steadied his suddenly fluttering stomach and managed to nod his head.

'Yes,' he managed.

Her eyebrows rose slightly and he saw the surprise and disbelief in her eyes and he felt heat flushing his cheeks in embarrassment.

'A real one?' she asked incredulously. 'Not a chaste kiss – and the Fade doesn't count.' His cheeks burned a flame red as the memory of them kissing, her lips against his as she held him to her, rushed through his mind.

'I mean,' her voice dropped lower still and caused his breath to hitch and his hands to fumble slightly as she continued; he had never known voices could do that to a person before he had met her. 'That kiss felt real, and good, but it is _nothing_ like the real thing. I don't think that you'd be able to stop at a kiss if I were to lean over and capture your lips now.' She leaned towards him, her voice all but a whisper. He swallowed as her unique scent of fire and ice tickled his nose. He recalled the first time he had consciously caught it back in Flemeth's hut after she had begun to recover, and how even then it had made his pulse quicken.

_Be her friend. She will treasure that more. Be her friend. She will treasure that more, _he chanted as he felt his trousers becoming a little tighter than was comfortable at the thoughts her words were evoking within him. It would be so easy to allow her to do as she wished with him, to lay with her as a man – to _become_ a man under her guidance – was what he had desired for weeks, more so since they had returned from Soldier's Peak after he had held her whilst she slept, protecting her from the cold and wind up on the Hidden High Road.

'And now that we're all alone,' she continued, her good hand reaching up gently turning his face towards her as she moved closer to him, pressing herself slightly into his arm so that he could feel the swell of her breasts, the curve of her body, causing him to swallow as she looked up at him through lowered lashes. 'No preaching bard, no over-protective grandmother, no _assassin_ to get in the way... We wouldn't _have_ to stop at a kiss, we could-'

'I've really kissed a girl!' He exclaimed, his voice two octaves higher than usual. 'I mean,' he cleared his throat, trying to bring his voice back to normal. 'Yes, I've kissed someone. When I was sixteen, at the Highever Chantry.'

'Really?' she questioned, her eyes narrowed as if she didn't believe him.

'Yes, her name was Elissa; she was the Teyrn's daughter and a few years older than me.' He turned back to bandaging her hand; 'I spent a summer there, as part of my training, and she spent a lot of time in the Chantry – I always thought she looked a little lost, as if she was always searching for the answer to a question she didn't know how to ask.

'I just started talking to her one day, and then the next day she came back and spoke to me again. We started conversing almost every day. The day before I was to leave we spent the day together – we snuck off with a picnic she had bought. She kissed me and it was clear right away I was not her first... apparently I wasn't the first Templar-trainee she had taken a fancy to. I was flogged that night by the Knight-Commander and then afterwards he confessed to me that he was impressed.

'It seemed it was the way she got her thrills. Every summer she would visit the Chantry and pick a trainee she would try and seduce... Once she'd had her way with him, she would move onto another. Usually she got two or three during the summer months; I must have resisted her quite well as I was the only one that summer to receive the 'Highever Crest' the flogging had become known as.' He couldn't help the bitterness that filled his voice as he told one of his secrets.

'Oh.' Nyra's whole frame suddenly dropped back slightly, her shoulders slumping, her eyes filled with disappointment and something he couldn't put his finger on. 'I see. I guess you didn't keep in touch with her then.'

'No, I did not. As far as I know she has continued her little antics. She probably always will if...'

'If what?'

'I don't know if she's still alive. I told you, I heard that Highever has fallen to Loghain, Arl Rendon Howe has been proclaimed Teyrn. I'm guessing that Fergus, her older brother, never returned from his scouting trip in the Wilds back at Ostagar.'

'There,' he proclaimed after a few moments of tense silence. He had wrapped her hand in the bandage, grateful that he had managed to distract her from tempting him and hopefully redirected her mind back onto their quest. 'That should heal nicely, but we'll still see if Wynne can do anything when we get into the city.'

'Thank you.' She took her hand back and stared into the fire, her good hand cupping her glum face. 'Thought you had never been with a woman before.'

He sighed deeply.

'I haven't. She didn't seduce me. The Knight-Commander always knew what she was up to, and unbeknown to either her or her trainees, he always had Templars following them. They'd then report back if the trainee had resisted or not... I was the first not to receive the full hundred lashings, gaining just fifteen for my kiss.'

'For a kiss?' Her eyes were wide as she looked back at him.

'I would have gladly accepted more if it had taken away the humiliation of knowing that I had been used.' Nyra's shoulder's squared and her back suddenly straightened. 'When I went back to the dorms that night, blood pinpricking my bandages, everyone knew what had happened – why I had been flogged. That followed me everywhere – rumours and whisperings behind my back.'

'But you resisted.' She frowned at him, and he smiled gently at her.

'But they didn't know that – I had the 'Highever Crest' that meant one thing only. I was another notch for Elissa Cousland.' He had often scoffed at the irony of that. If life had been different, if he had been raised by his father, it was more than likely that he would have been married off to her. Cailan with one Teyrn's daughter, he with another; he shuddered at the thought, instantly regretting the action as guilt gnawed at him. Most of Bryce Couland's men would have been at Ostagar; castle Cousland probably fell without much of a fight and he dared not think what horrors would have befallen upon her before her untimely death.

They sat in silence, again, staring at the dancing flames as Nyra so often did. He thought back to his talk with Gorim, confessing how he watched her when her gaze was upon the flames.

'I spoke to Gorim,' he uttered the words quickly; unable to move his eyes from the flickering fire for fear that the words would not come if he risked looking at her.

'You what?' He could feel her eyes upon him, burning him with reignited fury at the mention of her Second, and the fact that he had gotten involved. 'You had no right. You-'

'He only got married eighteen days ago – not even three weeks.' Alistair continued as if his dwarven companion hadn't spoken. 'He arrived three months ago, and a surface family took him in. The daughter flattered him constantly, but he took no notice, he packed up the sample wares every day and stood in the Market District so that he could see you should you arrive.

'But news of Ostagar arrived first – all Grey Wardens had been killed and it was up to the new regent to deal with the problems the land faced. He remembers going to a tavern that night and drinking, and drinking and... Well he woke up the next morning with no memory of how he got home, but he was in bed, naked, with his employer's daughter lying next to him.

'He told her it was a mistake, that he was sorry – he was in mourning for you and that he would be leaving shortly, as soon as he had the money for travel, so that he could go and make a... oh, what was the word he used... a Stonesword memorial?'

'A _Stoneblade?_' Nyra gasped. Alistair dared to allow his gaze to fall on her momentarily; her eyes were wide, hope dared to glisten within them, a small smile dancing on her lips. 'That's the highest honour a Second can give a First...' She turned back to the fire and lost herself in her thoughts for a moment, before she scoffed, her voice becoming cold and bitter; '...and then she got pregnant.'

'Yes,' Alistair sighed. 'Almost a month ago she went to him and confessed her newly found situation. She had been a virgin before him.'

'So he _married_ her? ...Because your surface doesn't accept bastards?'

'She'd have been shunned, Nyra, her father's business would have suffered...'

'He did the right thing then.' It wasn't a question, her eyes were focused back on the flames, but it was clear her mind was further away. 'He always wanted a family. I was trying to give him that before we got exiled. My big brother had just...' she trailed off and sat up straight, alert, aware that she was about to let her guard down.

'Tell me, Nyra, please,' he tried as he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He felt a surge of need rush through him as his fingers trailed down her elegant neck and she shivered, her mouth falling open slightly. He snatched his hand away and focused back on the fact that she was still holding back. Although he was grateful that Gorim had revealed part of her past to him, that he understood her slightly better than before, it bothered him that she hadn't been the one to say.

_But you're not very forthcoming with your own secrets are you?_

_I just did!_

_Kissing Elissa Cousland is _not _a secret... ask any Templar_, his mind scorned him. _You _know_ what secret you should tell her, what secret you're going to _have _to tell her-_

'It's nothing.' She took a shaking breath as she shook her head, dismissing whatever she had been going to say as trivial. 'He was just going to arrange it so that we could. I hadn't even managed to tell Gorim about it. It was going to be a surprise.'

'Oh.' He busied his hands with the spare bandage, wrapping it around his finger. He unwound it again as he wrestled with his conscience. He wanted to be with her so badly, and from what Gorim had told him he could have her if he allowed it. And although he would revel in it, would promise to spend forever and a day with the beautiful dwarf, once her heart started to recover he would just be someone who took advantage of her, or she would thank him before telling him that she had just needed him for that moment, to help her heart heal. He shuddered at the thought of either of the consequences that Gorim had drawn for him.

He had gone to the dwarf's shop to find out why he had run off with another woman, already set on hating the man, not believing any excuse that he was going to give him, and ready to challenge him for Nyra's honour. But when the man had revealed what had happened, had opened up to him about his feelings for Nyra, saw Alistair's own and not judged him for them, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the man and think that perhaps if Nyra hadn't been the object of both their affections that they might have made good companions upon this quest.

'He is genuinely heartbroken, Nyra,' Alistair's words were soft, gentle so that she could understand that they were true. 'He thought you were dead, and was just about coping – but now that he knows you're alive and that you came looking for him... he's lost you a second time and this time it's his own fault.'

Nyra hiccupped and he saw the beginning of a wave of tears trickling down her cheek. She wiped at them furiously, her bandaged hand mopping them up.

'No,' she whispered, a haunted memory shimmered within her eyes. 'It's mine...'

'Come here.' He tipped her chin towards him and gently wiped at her cheeks with the spare linen in his hand, washing away the dried blood, which still marred her face, with her new tears. All other thoughts disappeared from his mind as he gazed into her broken eyes. 'What happened, Nyra, is not your fault. It's not his fault. He is trying to do right by so many-'

'But he always misses out on his own happiness... _always_. Everyone else comes first to Gorim, they always have... He only took his own happiness once, and it cost him – a lot.' Her grey-blue eyes stared into his amber ones, pleading with him, begging him for something that he knew not what. Was she trying to make him understand something? Saying something that her lips could not?

'He gave me something to give to you.' He tore his eyes from her and got up, moving to the tree that Zevran had leant upon earlier. It was wrapped in brown linen; a ribbon of string hiding whatever it was that was within – although as a warrior Alistair already surmised what it was. Frowning Nyra took the package from him and slowly unwrapped it, gasping when she finally pulled the buckler from the paper.

'The Aeducan Shield! How... how did he get this?'

Where had he heard that name before? Shrugging he answered her question; 'All he said was that your father gave it to him before he left. He says he has something else for you too; he's...' Alistair closed his eyes and sighed, his next words were not ones he wanted to speak; 'He's hoping that you'll visit him before we leave Denerim so that he can explain everything to you personally, but he understands if you can't.' Fear that she would fall into her ex-lover's arms gripped at his chest, and he licked his lips as he watched her tracing the shield's heraldry with her fingers. 'I said that if you won't go to him before we leave, I'd go and collect whatever it is...'

She opened her mouth and then closed it again and for a second Alistair's body sagged with relief before Nyra shook her head; 'That won't be necessary...'

Alistair nodded, inwardly cursing as he watched her put out the fire before they began gathering their things.

_Give her time... if you want something real, something substantial with her, give her time. _The older dwarf had said to him as he had left the shop. _I only want to see her happy, and if she'll be happy with you, then you have my blessing..._

Picking up both his and her packs, he followed after her, unable to drop the idea that if the roles were reversed he'd never be able to give anyone his blessing...

_But then you'd never break her heart, _he thought.

_Thrice you will have the choice to betray her... Set are two... _Alistair shuddered as the unbidden thought trickled through his mind.

_I sincerely apologise for the delays between posting; the reasons are twofold. Firstly, my beta, Jo – the darling that she is! – went on Holiday for a while and then had loads of work to catch up on before she could get around to my chapters. The second is that coursework and exams are upon me this month, so I have not had a chance to write as much as I wanted to because I have been so stressed out and busy. Once this month and next have been and gone the summer is mine to do with as I please until University starts again in September, and I plan on spending that time finishing and posting Telling the Tale, so please stick with me and again I'm sorry about the absence!_


	21. Chapter XXI: Moving On

_The letter that appears in this chapter is partly __ of bioware (as are all recognisable characters of course!) however I amended it and made it more personal – or at least I feel that I did._

Chapter Twenty-One – Moving On

Nyra was standing peering over the balcony of the Diamond Quarter, looking down into the commons, when Lowena found her. The Commander's eyes were fixed firmly on a group of young warriors, laughing and joking, in its centre; people gave them a wide birth as they scurried about on their business.

'Something the matter?' Lowena asked as the Commander sighed.

'The man in the middle there is my nephew.' Nyra waved her hand at the group she had been watching. 'He's the reason we're here.'

'Your nephew?' The Scholar looked perplexed. 'I thought that you were the last of your line?'

Nyra shook her head. 'No, my younger brother, Bhelen, had a concubine, she birthed a boy just two months before I arrived back in Orzammar and Bhelen accepted him as his 'heir'. When Bhelen was dispatched with, Rica, his mother, tried to declare herself sort of Endrin's regent and wanted control of the House... like Loghain tried to do. One of my cousins put her in her place – about the only good thing he ever did – and took over Endrin's training to run the house. Of course, once I was declared Paragon, I called for the right to rejoin my house rather than start a new one and demanded to be its head, with Gorim as my heir as there was no one I trusted more. He took on the name Aeducan without a second of hesitation. Rica protested, claiming that it was her son's birthright. She didn't stand a chance – bloody Duster that she is.'

'She was from Dust Town?'

Nyra nodded. 'When Alistair and I came to Orzammar to enforce the treaty, I thought... I had hoped...' The Commander's voice cracked and her eyes softened for a second as she thought of something still too painful for her to speak of. She shook her head, hardening her eyes, squaring her jaw. 'I found that my father had died just days before I arrived and that the throne was up for contention. Bhelen had taken Rica into the House against my father's wishes, or so I am told. My father never trusted Duster harlots. Although he never really trusted any woman except me or my real mother. It was a lot to take in, let me tell you.' Nyra blinked quickly, her eyes focusing on the men below again as one of them grabbed for a woman, who dodged out of their way and gave them a gesture that Lowena didn't recognise, but was obviously one meant to insult.

'I found out that she was one of the reasons for his betrayal. He didn't want her as just his concubine, he loved her and wanted to marry her. Bhelen and I were more alike than he realised, both falling in love and wanting to marry those we could never have, and yet he...' Nyra sighed, her shoulders slumping.

'Where I worked my politics in secret, he decided to simply remove what was blocking his happiness there and then. He was going to destroy the traditional caste system, a system that we Dwarva have upheld for centuries, that has never failed us. He didn't believe in it once he had fallen in love.'

'But you did?'

Again the Commander nodded. 'I still do. Alistair, however, he has different views. I always tell him to come back to me when Ferelden is a state that is independent from the Bannorn, when the common people elect their leaders, and when elves are free to own land and have a say in the way the country is run. Then he can look at my people and judge our caste system. It usually shuts him up.' The Commander smiled, but it was a wistful smile, not the hard smirk the Scholar thought it would be. 'He could have done that, if I had left him as king... or at least laid down the foundations for it...

'But I've made a huge jump ahead in our tale.' Nyra gritted her teeth as the group began to laugh at the disgruntled man who had been told where to go by the woman as they moved towards the doors leading to the Diamond Quarter. 'I have no children and neither did Trian; I have cousins from my father's sisters and they bear the Aeducan name, but he is the last true Aeducan blood in my eyes and I have to fight him to the death to appease my people for the slander and lies he spouts about me, my older brother and my father.' Nyra's mouth turned into a sneer as he walked beneath them. 'He may have Aeducan blood, but he is no Aeducan.'

Lowena's eyes widened as, without warning, Nyra spat over the side of balcony and landed the green chunk of phlegm square on the top of her nephew's head. The men stopped and turned their eyes upward; even from this distance the hatred and rage that the younger Aeducan aimed at the Warden Commander could be seen.

Lowena was surprised at the resemblance between Nyra and her brother's son. Their eyes the same steel blue, their faces rounded; Nyra's cheek bones were higher than her nephew's and her hair white, where his was a rich strawberry-blond, but no one could be mistaken of their family connection.

They watched as the men moved to the entrance of the quarter and disappeared behind the doors leading to the great staircase that lead to doors not far from where they were now. The doors to their right burst open and Nyra calmly turned to look as a number of guards ran out; they spotted the Paragon, halting quickly and turning to the doors they had just come through.

Leaning casually against the balcony Nyra watched in amusement as her nephew and his cronies appeared at the door only to be held back. Her nephew's eyes met hers and Nyra's mouth turned up into a cold, yet triumphant, smirk.

'You know you are not permitted within thirty yards of the Paragon, Endrin,' the captain advised the young noble.

'_Ahem_,' Nyra cleared her throat.

'Oh, yes. Forgive me, Paragon. Twenty, after what happened last time.'

'Then tell her to move, I wish to return home.' Lowena noted that the younger Aeducan's voice was rough and unrefined. His aunt's, on the other hand, still held the polish and elegance she had acquired in her younger days, even after all these years away from the life of a noble.

'But I don't want to move. I'm enjoying myself.' Nyra studied her nails briefly before levelling a glare at the young man.

'You are going to be surprised in that arena, _Aunt Nyra_,' Endrin spat at her. 'You're not going to know what hit you.'

The men turned and left without another word said and Nyra returned to her viewing of the Commons, her shoulders carrying a weight no eye could see.

'Don't tell Alistair I just did that.'

'Where is he?' Lowena asked, looking around for the deputy commander, unsure what to do with the despondent woman next to her.

'He's talking trade agreements with Gorim on behalf of King Tristan. They _are_ good friends you know.'

'King Tristan and Alistair? I thought they were-'

'No, Alistair and Gorim. You may think they should hate one another, but they don't. They never did. Gorim loved me so much he only wanted me to be happy, he never resented Alistair.'

'And what about you?'

'Did I resent his wife? Of course I did. I despised her from the moment I knew of her being. She had stolen the most important man in my life, making him break the promises he had made to me. I still despise her to this day. Perhaps if he had loved her, if he had been happy with her, I might have been able to understand the pain and the heartache that I was enduring then, and to one day say that I was happy for him...'

o-O-o

The door to my Second's shop opened and he stood there, eyes wide in surprise at my arrival. I planned on being there only minutes, getting whatever it was he declared he had for me and then leaving again. But the moment he opened the door, all my anger, my hatred towards him melted and the love that I was desperate not to feel any more allowed three words to slip from my mouth;

'I forgive you.' If I had thought he was surprised before, his eyebrows almost jumped from his head at my words. 'I mean, I _don't_, not yet, but I want to.'

'Will you come in?' He asked tentatively and stepped to one side to allow me entry into his store, the one that I had visited that afternoon, completely unaware of what ties I had to it. I stepped inside and heard Bert whine behind me.

'Stay here, boy,' I said softly, giving him a scratch behind one of his floppy ears. 'I won't be long.'

Gorim closed the door behind me, to another whine from Bert, before turning and offering to take my cloak; his fingers gently brushing my neck, causing me to shiver in anticipation; memories of a hundred other secret caresses raced through my mind. I sighed and another thought rushed through me; Alistair's fingers tracing the edge of my ear and trailing down my neck. A cascade of confusing emotions tumbled within me, and I told myself to stop any such thoughts – of either man. I kept my back to my dwarven love as he hung my mantle, trying to calm my nerves and sudden confusion.

'I am glad you came, but I did not expect you to.'

'I wasn't going to, but then Alistair...' I turned and looked at him; his eyes were cast down, looking at his hands and I wondered if he had also been possessed with the same memories I had felt when he touched me. 'He explained everything to me. He says that you only married her because of the ways of the surface, not because you love her.'

His head snapped up, his dark orbs clashed with mine. 'Of course I don't love her; _you_ are my heart.' He limped towards me and took my hands in his. 'You always are and always will be.'

His eyes burned with need, a need for me to understand that he hadn't stopped loving me and he still wanted me in every way he always had. I caught my lower lip between my teeth and heard him take a sudden quiet breath, his hands tightening on mine.

'Alistair said you had something for me?' I was surprised my voice was as strong as it was as I gently took my hands from his and lowered my gaze to the floor, unable to trust myself to hold his eyes any longer. I had thought that I could do this, that I could see him, collect what it was, walk away and never think of him again. What a fool I had been.

My heart beat in my chest, like a hundred wild brontos charging down the Deep Roads, as I looked at my hands still warmed from his touch. Only two men had ever been able to evoke such a reaction within me; him and Cailan.

_Three_, my mind whispered as an image of Alistair raising my hand and brushing a gentle kiss across it burst into my vision. I ground my teeth as I pushed the uninvited image away, focusing on the here and now.

'Yes,' my Second's voice was husky and I watched him hobble past me to a door on the other side of the room. 'Would you like to come through? Don't worry,' he continued as he saw my uncertainty at the opened door. 'Aeri isn't home – she went to her sister's.'

Trying to gather my thoughts together, I took a deep breath to stop the swirling chaos within me and stepped through the door into the sitting area that was beyond it. _Cool, _I reminded myself. _Cool, calm, collected, _I chanted.

'I thought this would be a workshop.' I commented, trying to make idle conversation, as he closed the door and moved to the other side of the room. The room was comfortably furnished, but lacked the personal touch of a family. There were no likenesses of them, no mementos of even the House before Gorim had joined them. _Where are her wedding ornaments? Surely they should still be displayed?_ I frowned at my ex-lover's back. What sort of relationship was he caught in?

'It used to be,' he replied as he retrieved something from a chest. 'When Aeri's father heard she was expecting he rented the shop next door for work space and made this the living area. We now boast three bedrooms.' Something hard in his voice made the quick scathing remark on my tongue halt.

Finally he found what he was looking for and turned to me, unable to meet my gaze, holding something in his hand. 'Before I left, your father called me to see him. It's how I got the shield and... this.' He held out a simple roll of parchment that bore my father's seal. 'He wrote it for your eyes only.'

'What?' My voice was an octave higher than normal as I shrank back from what he proffered; that was certainly not what I had been expecting. 'Why? Why would he do that? Why didn't he call for me?'

'I do not know why he called for me, but I am glad you did not see him; his eyes, haunted by regret and misery, have disturbed me ever since. And his voice... it was not as strong as we knew it, but he believed you'd survive the Roads and told me that I had to find you and ensure that this letter came into your hands.' He moved closer, the parchment still offered to me. 'Please, Nyra, take it. He begged me to bring this to you. Do not let me fail him, as I failed you.'

I felt as frozen as I had in the cave when encased in ice as he tried to push the parchment towards me, except this time I wasn't cold, not physically at least. My father was the man that I had adored most in the world. He had favoured me above my siblings, knowing with a surety that I was his child, that I was born from a woman he had doted on, and who had loved him utterly in return, regardless of their strange circumstances. He had collapsed at the crossroads, his eyes staring up at me, pleading with me to make everything right; his once proud frame, laying prone on the cold stone floor, his men tending to him, was the last image I had of him. He hadn't come to see me in my prison cell.

'Nyra?' Gorim's gentle voice brought my unfocused eyes up to his, and I remember to breath, as I blinked, lost for a few moments in the past. He reached out and gently took my arm, guiding me to his couch and helped me to sit.

Of everything that I had been expecting him to present to me, it wasn't this. I had never imagined ever hearing my father's voice again; to read his hand... Could I?

'Talk to me, Heart.'

My fingers trembled as I took the parchment he still held; the tips of our fingers brushing slightly brought another flood of memories through me.

'I...' I licked my dry lips as I tried to close down my mind, pushing out the memories that threatened to break me and focusing only on the present; the here and now... alone with Gorim.

I shook my head, dismissing him and with shaking fingers I broke the seal of the note and unrolled it. Taking a deep breath I allowed my eyes to scan the page;

_My Diamond,_

_Perhaps you will burn this letter unread and for that I would not blame you. I urge the Ancestors that Gorim will find you, that he will be able to bestow these words upon you that you may know how I truly feel._

_I have seen what Bhelen is, and when I saw it, I knew what a fool I had been, for only a fool would cut out his own heart for the sake of appearances._

_In my heart I never believed your guilt; I allowed voice and reason to overrule it, and allowed your exile because I feared an inquiry into Trian's murder would taint our House with scandal in the eyes of the Deshyrs and cost our family the throne._

_Ha! My sacrifice did nothing that I believed it would; scandal still mars our House with the Assembly torn over my decision to send my only child into an uncertain exile._

_I send this missive with Gorim who I know will find you, as I know his devotion to you is unmatched by any other – even myself. He was the only one who stood at your side, and I wish with all my heart that I could have allowed him to stand with you forever, in the way that you so obviously desired._

_I ask not for your forgiveness, for I deserve none, I wish only for you to know that whatever you do now, you bear all the honour and pride of House Aeducan and that I will regret my actions for the rest of my days, my glittering jewel._

_Your father x_

I read the words but I didn't believe them. I _couldn't_ believe them. He _couldn't_ have known. He would never have allowed my exile, no matter the scandal to our house if he had truly believed me innocent.

My brain whirled with the whisperings of a thousand questions, but one refused to whisper – it demanded my attention. What was worse; that he had known and sacrificed me to secure the throne for the House, or that he had believed me capable of breaking his heart by killing my brother?

'He knew,' I whispered, unable to believe that he would think I was capable of such cruelty to him or Trian, that I would be selfish enough to try and claim what was not rightfully mine. 'He knew that I- that _we _were innocent and he... did nothing.' I slumped back into the cushions that padded the wooden frame of the couch and without thinking I passed the letter to my Second, as I always had, to gain his insight. I heard him curse a moment later.

Both of us, our lives shattered so that House Aeducan could maintain a crown, a crown I had never had any interest in; that Bhelen could have had if he had just asked me had it had fallen upon my head. I never wanted the title, the role. I had wanted my armies; I had wanted to free my lands from the blackness of the Taint, bring glory to my Ancestors, and marry Gorim and give him the child he had so desperately desired.

Tears stung my eyes as I thought of the things that had been taken from us; the future that we were supposed to have together, the future that Trian had assured me. If Bhelen had realised that, had assured me the same would I have supported him? Would I have betrayed my big brother? I shook my head at the silent question. No.

Trian had been a kind and caring brother when I was a child, and then we had fought like nig and nug when I was a teenager, but the last few years before his death, things had changed, we had recognised that we had strength together and he had become the big brother that he had been when I was small, and I had cherished that relationship.

'My Heart.' Gorim tenderly brushed at the tears that had fallen unbidden to my cheeks, before brushing the back of his hand down my jaw. 'He loved you so much; you could always see it whenever he looked at you – even when you angered him. If you had seen him that day you would know that his decision is a burden to him, one that he will carry forever-'

'He was my _father_!' I exclaimed, sitting up, brushing away his hand as I looked at him incredulously. 'I was... he always said- I was his _favoured_!' Great wracking sobs suddenly burst from my chest, my heart breaking for a second time that day.

_It's not fair_, my mind screamed as I buried my face in my hands. _What did I, _we_, do to him to warrant such cruelty? _

_Did I anger you, Ancestors? Did I dishonour you in some way for you to exact this punishment upon me?_

'Oh, Nyra.' My name fell from his lips in a sigh. His strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me to him, holding me close. The rise and fall of his chest and the rhythmic beating of his heart helped to sooth my erratic tears.

I felt his lips brush the top of my head gently and without thought I eased away from him just enough to tip my head to his, to find his mouth with my own. He hesitated for a second, before gently pressing his against mine, returning the kiss I offered. I sighed into him, parting my lips, at the familiar sensations of his caresses; the soft tickle of his full beard, his fingers gently stroking my hip, slowly trailing a path upwards along the soft curves of my body until his hands, resting just beneath my breasts, hesitated again. I brought my own to his, intent on moving them to where they wanted to go, when my fingers caressed _it_.

_It_ – the plain simple band that now adorned that all important finger on his left hand; an inelegant piece of jewellery that reminded me he was no longer mine to do this.

He felt my body stiffen under his hands and broke the kiss with a groan, his eyes unable to meet my own as he released me.

'I'm sorry,' his voice was gruff, thickened with emotion. He turned slightly away from me, hiding both his guilt and arousal. 'I am a married man. I shouldn't do this...' His voice trailed away, a question within it. He _shouldn't_ do this, but he _wanted _to. Was he asking me to tell him that he _could_? That I was willing?

My fingers brushed my swollen lips, tracing where his had been just a moment ago. What was he really asking me? Was I willing to be his mistress? The other woman?

_I'll wait there for you every day, my Heart._

Words he had spoken four and a half months ago whispered in my ears.

_If it was me, I wouldn't have given up on you so easily._

My teeth slid across one another as I bit down the on the sudden anger – _no, not sudden_, I reminded myself as I thought to that afternoon when I had first heard of his betrayal.

'No,' my voice was cold and hard. 'No, you shouldn't.' I pulled my shoulders square, my head high as I peered at him, my nose wrinkled in disgust. 'I was born Lady Nyra Aeducan, Princess of Orzammar, _not _some common concubine.' His shoulders slumped as I stood up. Never, since our relationship had blossomed, had I treated him as an inconsequential subject...

'You have been weighed,' my voice shook slightly, as I fought to control my temper. 'The stock of your actions measured, and you have been found wanting.' I felt I was tearing out the last piece of my heart as I looked at him; horror in his eyes at my words, their coldness and formality.

'Nyra, don't...' he beseeched me, rising from his seat. 'I had no-'

'You will address me as My Lady, Warrior Caste!' I turned and walked away from him, intent on making my exit with my disdain known, able to walk away and not look back.

But I hadn't expected his reaction.

'No,' his voice was strong, if hesitant. 'No, _Nyra_, I will not. You are no longer the Lady Aeducan, Orzammar's Princess or it's High Commander, just as I am no longer of the Warrior Caste.'

'How _dare_ you!' I snapped turning on my heel, my hands on my hips.

'We are surface dwellers now; without position or title. We are equals, what you always wanted.' He stepped towards me; he had no limp, he strode with the same proud step he had always walked with when at my side. My protests locked in my throat at the confidence he exuded; his dark eyes smouldering with fury as they locked upon my own sent excited shivers down my spine. What right did he have to be angry? He had betrayed me!

Regardless of my thoughts, my body took a footstep back, but he had already anticipated my move and caught my arm, hauling me away from the door, my exit, towards him.

'You learnt your place once, Nyra, do it again.'

'I know my place,' my voice was breathy, not the icy tone I wanted. '_I_ am a Grey Warden.' I tried to pull myself away from him, and frowned as he refused to let go, his hand wrapped tightly around my forearm keeping me close to him. With a deep breath I brought myself to my full four foot eleven inches. On any human, this might have been laughable, an elf may have thought twice about dealing with me, but in Orzammar my height was formidable. I was a good two inches taller than my Second, who stood the average height of a _man_ in Orzammar.

'What is _your_ place? Selling inferior copies of Orzammar weapons?' It was a low blow, and I saw his eyes flicker in embarrassment for an instant. I should have pulled my arm from his grasp and left with that scathing remark; Morrigan may have even been proud of my sharp tongue, Alistair impressed that I hadn't used my blade, but my anger, my damnable temper, was in full rage.

All of them had betrayed me; my father, my brothers, my lover. All of them making promises for a happy life, promises they had broken. They had all used me as a pawn in their plans, plotting to use me only for their gain, and the worst culprit stood before me now.

'Noble-hunter.' His hold on my arm tightened, his eyes glittering dangerously.

'You used that already, you have to do better than that.'

'But it's true,' I spat. 'In Orzammar you bedded the princess, now you bed the daughter of the man who claims to be the best smith in Denerim. Perhaps _fortune_-hunter would be the correct word.' His hand suddenly dropped from my arm, his burning gaze moved to the door behind me.

'Leave, _Warden_.' His voice was even and measured, his jaw stiff, his lips so tight that they appeared white in the corners.

'That's all you were, a trumped up noble-hunter. No, you were worse; noble-hunters are, at least, honest, they tell you what they are – you made me believe you loved me, I fell in love with you. Your promises, to wait for me forever, were lies, merely words of comfort before you left me to walk to my death – alone. You didn't even try, did you, to be exiled with me? Probably relieved to be sent to the surface, to be able to try your luck elsewhere.

'A _real_ man, a _true_ Second wound have found a way to my side-'

An angry growl resonated in his throat, halting my words for a beat. 'Nyra-'

'I bet you weren't even drunk were you? Did you get _her_ drunk? Take her when she was vulnerable, ensuring that this time your place was assured?'

The rest of my words died on my tongue as I braced myself for the sting of a slap when his hand rose quickly. But instead of connecting with my face, he trust it into his hair and roared in frustration, tugging on his thick locks, before turning away from me.

'Go, Nyra. Now.'

'No.'

'I won't be held responsible if you don't-'

'You mean you'd _actually _do something? That would be new,' I scoffed.

'You're angry at me,' he stated the fact. 'I get it. You have every right to be – I'd feel cheated if you weren't, it shows that you did love me – that you _do_ love me. But do not belittle my heart; do not presume that I did not give you _everything_ that I could.' He turned back to me, his eyes holding mine.

'I lost my father to remain faithful to you,' he reminded me. 'He still refused to see me when I tried to visit before I was marched out of Orzammar. I had made my bed, were his last words to me, conveyed through a _servant_.

'I love you, Nyra, not _loved,_ love – I always, _always_ will. When I call you my Heart, I mean it, you _are_. Without you its empty, I might as well be dead.'

His words, spoken with such conviction, such force, made my heart beat wildly again. I shivered as he stepped back towards me, his eyes softening, pleading, his anger gone as he tried to make me see the truth.

'I mourned your death. I sobbed like a baby all day at the news of your fall and then I... made a mistake. I hurt Aeri – I took her _drunkenly, _Nyra – her first time and I don't even remember it! How do you think she feels? How would you feel?

'And so I try and do right by her, I fix things so that my life doesn't end up a total disaster. I have a child on the way, I focus on that, I think only of my son or daughter and it gets me through the days. I go to work, every day, a job I only took so that I could stand in that market square so I could keep my promise to you, so that I could see you when you arrived. And it tore me apart. Every day standing there, a reminder of what could have been, and every day I mourn that my eyes will never see you walk through that district, and that you will never see me. I'll never have that joyous reunion I had pictured.'

I swallowed. My thoughts had been as his before I found his sword.

'So I've fixed things, I have a way to get through the days, and what happens? Less than a _week_ after I marry, rumours of two Grey Wardens surviving arrive; a woman and a man. A few days later more information arrives; a human and a dwarf, but no one can tell me who is who, and I live with the wonder... and the fear. The fear that it will be you, that you'll arrive and I'm married and that _this _whole mess happens.

'And then I'm sick with guilt, guilt that I'm wishing you dead because I don't want you to see that I failed you, that I hadn't believed in you enough.'

My mouth gaped at his confession. I tried to remember what Alistair had told me; eighteen days he'd been married. Where had I been then?

My mind flickered to a hazy memory; a dark cave, or tunnel, freezing winds whipping at me but my skin burning. Strong arms wrapped around me, large hands caressing my bare flesh as I pressed myself against... Alistair's strong chest.

I felt my cheeks burning, the guilt seizing at my chest. I had been fighting for my life, apparently, but did that make it right?

'And then,' Gorim's voice, husky as his hand reached up to stroke my jaw, brushing it with the back of his hand; a touch so soft I could feel every hair upon it. My lower lip quivered as I sought breath, my heart racing at his gentle touch. 'And then you're standing in front of me, as alive and beautiful as ever before and for a second I forget my mistake – I am so happy, ecstatic to see you again.' His thumb traced my lower lip, finding the small indent I had made from years of worrying it. I trembled at his touch, my heart pounding, as the familiar feel of an aching need within me sparked to life.

'But you throw my mistake at my feet,' his voice dipped, shame and sadness taking over his words. 'The sword you had bestowed upon me as an open claim to your love for me; a sword I had wielded proudly and then sold to provide the dowry my new wife's father had demanded – a wife I didn't want – betraying my Heart, the only woman I have ever loved... will _ever_ love.

'My mistake wasn't sleeping with Aeri, or marrying her – it was giving up on you, and the Ancestors have cursed me for it.' His hand, that had been causing such a wonderful reaction in me, dropped from my chin. 'I can never ask for your forgiveness for that, Nyra, but for what has transpired this evening I-'

Without realising what I was doing I stepped to him, my hand on his chest, the other sliding over his shoulder, my fingers trailing to the hair at the nape of his neck. I heard his sharp intake of breath as I pressed my lips against his, hot and demanding.

'I won't be your mistress,' I breathed as I broke the kiss. 'But tonight, tonight is the night we deserved, a night as equals, a night to say goodbye to one another.'

His eyes, saddened by my words yet filled with hunger for me, searched mine and he nodded a ghost of a smile upon his lips. 'Then I will ensure it is one that we do not forget.'

I was not disappointed. The first touch of his mouth on mine sent my senses whirling. I had no way of controlling my reaction to him; a reaction so familiar heightened by the knowledge that this would be our last time together, never again to become one as lovers. He pushed me against the door that I'd been anxious to get through, knocking the breath from me, intensifying my desire as a burning, desperate need for him flared within my core.

His leg, thrust between mine, pinned me to the door as his hands clawed at my top, desperate to remove it from my body. My own hands slid into his hair, clutching him to me as his lips pressed their way down my jaw, my neck; slipping down my heated form. I moaned in delight as his lips captured the hard peak of my nipple, his teeth grazing it, nipping at it, causing me to rub against the muscled thigh caught between mine.

I felt him hesitate for a breath of time before he dragged his head back up and his hungry lips claimed my own. His hand moved down, over my pale skin, the soft curve of my hip, before tugging, urgently at the ties of my britches. It slipped inside the linen, finding me ready and wanton; my legs parting easily, allowing him access to my moist centre. His fingers stroked the throbbing bud enticing me to squirm against him in frustration as the aching desire at the apex of my legs grew, desperate for him to complete me as only he could.

I dug my nails into his shoulders, knowing it would leave marks for his wife to find later and it only heightened the pleasure he was enticing with his ministrations. I pulled at his doublet, ripping at the ties, yanking it open and running my hands down through the hair of his chest, returning the attention he had given me, nipping playfully at his nipples, before trailing kisses up his body and mewing in delight as he kissed me passionately. Breaking the kiss, I threw my head back, calling out his name before shuddering to completion.

I felt the tension, the grief and the questions I had about his feelings for me drifting away as I grabbed for air to refill my lungs. His kisses upon my neck, his voice softly calling me, his hand withdrawing, leaving me cold and bereft, brought me back to him and I sought his lips again.

'I want you,' I murmured against his beard that carried the scent of steel and smoke. 'Now.'

Easing me to the floor, divesting ourselves of what little clothing remained, he looked down at me, his eyes filled with love and adoration and with one smooth and practiced thrust he took me, completely. I moaned in ecstasy at the feeling. He tried to set a gentle rhythm, but his desperate and urgent need overtook and we grasped at one another in a feverish pace. It was wild, and yet his kisses were tender. Hearing his husky voice calling my name I wrapped my legs around him, holding him tightly as his body stiffened and I felt him filling me entirely before collapsing in exhaustion.

He lay above me, whether he was unable or unwilling to move I don't know, but at that moment we had done something new, something we had never been able to risk before, and it was something I would never forget.

'Nyra,' he breathed as he rolled off me, pulling me with him so that I was curled against him. 'You... we've never-'

'I wanted to know what it felt like to finish what we started properly, just once.' I pressed my fingers to his lips. 'I can't get pregnant any more. Grey Wardens can't have children, there's no risk of producing a child from our exertion.' I knew that Alistair said there was a small chance, but I held no hope, somehow knowing that it had never been written into my future.

'I- Nyra, I'm so sorry.' I could hear the shock in his voice, and I just shrugged as if it didn't matter and I felt his hold tighten on me. He knew me far too well to know that it did, indeed, matter.

We lay together for a while in satisfied silence, his hand gently stroking my hip; I was just drifting off when he quietly asked; 'Where did you get that scar?'

'Hmmmm?'

His other hand reached over to me, his finger carefully trailing between my breasts. 'That. You didn't have it when you left. Or this one.' His attention turned to the slightly older scar, close to my eye. He turned my head to face him, his eyes searching. 'What happened to you?'

'The Roads,' I pointed to my eye, before bringing my hand down to my chest. 'Ostagar.'

'What happened?' I sighed and sat up, the moment between us gone, but never forgotten.

'A large group of Darkspawn got me before I found Duncan and the Wardens.' I heard him sit up behind me. 'Luckily, though, they found me in time so that this was the only mark they got to make.' I heard him curse roughly and felt his fingers gently caressing the pinkish mark that partnered the ugly healed wound between my breasts.

'That was an arrow from one of the bastards. We fought an ogre at the top of some tower so that we could light a beacon as a signal for Loghain to join the battle. If we had known that he wasn't going to enter the field, we wouldn't have bothered. With the armies overwhelmed, the Darkspawn broke through and Alistair and I were nearly killed.'

As Gorim and I dressed I continued to explain about how Flemeth rescued us and saved my life, how we had met Leliana and Sten, our time on the road and then in the Circle Tower. For some reason my tongue refused to speak of our diversion to Soldier's Peak, or how I had almost died a second time if it hadn't been for Alistair agreeing to Avernus' aid.

My Second looked at me in wonder as we fell back into his couch, his arm wrapped tightly around me, a cup of Orzammar's finest whisky in our hands as he questioned me further.

'Your fellow Warden is quite taken with you.' His words were casual, but his gaze over the brim of his mug as he took a drink was penetrating. 'He appears to be quite naive in the ways of the heart.' I felt a slight blush tinge my cheeks and his eyebrow rose.

'He is. He was raised in one of those Chantries; women off limits, impure thoughts or actions punished.' My friend scoffed at the information. 'He's Templar-trained, but he never took his vows.'

'He doesn't still live the way of the Chantry does he?' I nodded about to take another sip of my liquor when Gorim spoke again, his voice serious. 'Stay away from him, Nyra.'

'What?'

'I am not saying this out of jealousy, and I do not mean to sound conceited, but I remember how you were when Cailan left and you had not known him more than a week.' My cheeks blushed furiously as memories of how I had thrown myself at my Second and then, when he had politely turned me down, a number of lesser noblemen, only to be hauled away by him.

'Nyra, you are a hard woman to refuse, he's inexperienced in both the ways of the body and the heart – do not break his heart by using his body. Take the elf if you must.' I heard the edge in his tone at those words. 'But do not hurt Alistair, you'll only regret it later when you stop hurting and you see what you've done to him.'

'Sounds like you two have become fast friends,' I muttered before knocking back the last dregs of my drink and putting the mug down on the table.

'When he came to see me I thought you had sent him to kill me. I saw his feelings for you and I remembered being in his position all those years ago. The difference between he and I though, is that I had experience of these matters, he does not. I know how I would have felt.' I swallowed as I looked at the flickering flames burning in the fireplace.

'He seems a good man.' His voice sounded tight. 'If, in the future, when your heart is not so raw, you wished to... start again with someone, he would not be a bad choice.'

'I should go,' I said quickly, rising to my feet, unable to look at him, tears stinging my eyes as I realised the finality of the situation. This was indeed the end for us.

'Wait,' he called as I reached the door that lead to the shop front. 'Take this.' He held his sword out to me. 'I can no longer wield it and it may prove useful to your plight. Alistair could-'

'No.' The thought of Alistair, with his longing looks over the campfire as he tended to his armour and weapon, holding a blade meant for the hand of my old love caused a shiver of disgust within me. How could I give him the cast offs, no matter how spectacular they were, of the man who had once held my heart. I was already second hand in his eyes.

'I'm sorry-'

'No, I am. I didn't mean to be so sharp, it's just... I had that commissioned for you and you alone, and you may need it yet if you told Alistair the truth about honouring me with a _Stoneblade_. My journey is long and far from over. A Blight is not a quick battle, and who knows where or when my fate will end.'

'Don't speak like that, Heart.'

'I speak nothing but the truth, Gorim. We faced the same perils when we fought in the Roads.'

'Yes, but then I was at your side, there to protect you.'

'I have Alistair now.' He nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor. 'I didn't mean-'

'He will make a fine Second, I am sure. You know,' he sighed, 'even in Orzmmar we both knew it couldn't last... you are almost at your twenty and fourth year, your father would have demanded you marry soon.'

I bit my lip as I looked at him, knowing that his words were meant to protect him, convince him, and me, that our lives could never have been better. Did I dare to tell him what I hadn't been given the chance to? How Trian had arranged our future to be secure?

_He has already endured so much; let him have this one thing, allow him to think that one day it would have been inevitable that we part_.

It didn't sit well with me; it had been our chance, our future together, and the day Trian had finally confirmed that he could give me that assurance Bhelen had stolen it from me before I had been able to find the words to tell my faithful Second.

Sighing, I reached over and brushed my lips against his, lingering but a moment to hear his intake of breath before I opened the door and left his home, his store, but not his heart.

o-O-o

Bert bounded happily towards me as I closed the door behind me, his stubby little tail wagging with delight, before he screeched to a stop, taking two deep breaths of air. Lowering his head he started growling, his teeth bared.

'Stop it, Bert!' I commanded sternly, wondering what on Thedas has gotten into him.

'Your _ex -_lover's scent is all over you,' came the smooth Antivan accent that could only belong to Zevran. 'You do not smell the same to him as when you went in. He is confused.' My head snapped around to where his voice came from and he appeared from the shadows as if made by them.

'Gorim's... _scent_?' I frowned. A dog could smell _that_? Zevran took a deep breath as he came near.

'Yes, it is all over you; I gather things went better than you expected.' He raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. 'You and he are lovers once again?' I shook my head. 'Ah, but even I can smell him on you, my sexy Warden, there is no denying what just transpired in there.'

'Whatever _transpired_ in there is between Gorim and I,' I told him haughtily, smacking Bert across the snout as he continued to growl; he pulled his head back in shock for a moment before shaking it vigorously and blowing a surprised breath through his nose before looking up at me with a whine. 'It's me,' I told him and he barked happily, his tongue falling out as he panted contentedly as we moved on. 'And,' I turned back to Zevran, 'it won't be transpiring again. We said our final goodbyes in that regard.'

'I see.'

A cold gust of wind blew down the street we were walking through, and I gathered my thick cloak about me.

'Harvestmere is very near; we should not travel south and into the forest without winter equipment.' His eyes flickered towards me. 'As it is we require two more tents.' I bristled slightly at the comment but kept my tongue in check. It was something I had to be mindful of and master now that Gorim would not be joining us as I had always planned.

I released a big sigh. All along I had been telling myself that I only had to make it to Denerim, after that everything would be so much easier with Gorim at my side. But the Ancestor's will was not my own.

Lost in my thoughts I did not hear the sounds of shuffling from an alleyway up ahead; only Zevran's arm across my path and a finger to his lips alerted me to the possibility of danger. Mindful of the price on my head, I melted into the shadows, disappearing from view, pulled my daggers from my hips and approached the darkened corridor with caution. Zevran followed suit.

I sighed with relief to see it was just a man locked in a passionate embrace with his young lover. I watched for a moment, lost in the memory of earlier that evening, as the two youngsters groped at one another.

'I never took you as a voyeur, Nyra,' Zevran's heavily accented voice whispered in my ear causing me to jump out of my revere. Blushing furiously, I turned my head to look at the smirking elf behind me. His blue eyes danced with merriment. 'Tsk,' he tutted as he peered over my head to the pair beyond. 'They are not very good, should we show them how it's done?' He traced a lazy finger down my cheek as his gaze returned to mine, his desire unhidden in his azure orbs.

'I have to get back to my _husband_,' I heard the woman giggle, and the tart reply I had on my lips refused to come as I turned my head quickly back the pair. I heard Zevran chuckle behind me.

'Ah, they are naughtier than I thought. They have an advantage on us now. Nyra?'

My eyes narrowed, willing the woman to step around the man that was blocking my view, and then drew in a breath in a hiss as she did. It was not a _young_ lover as I had first thought, just a _smaller _lover, a dwarf sized lover. A dwarf that I had seen earlier that very day.

'That bitch,' I whispered and I sensed the elf behind me tense.

'What is it?' he whispered hurriedly. The blonde woman giggled again as her lover grasped her waist, his hands gentle, as they caressed her stomach. She sighed and leant back against him, her eyes closed, blissfully content in the moment.

I plastered a cold smile to my face and stepped from the shadows. 'Aeri?' I called out to her, and watched as she stiffened, her eyes flying open and focusing on me. She instinctively pulled away from the man behind her and cursed. Her lover instantly snapped to attention, his voice dropping low so that when he spoke only Aeri could hear his words. She shook her head, panic evident in her face. She licked her lips nervously as she waved away her lovers comforting hands.

'I did not realise that words in Orzammar had different meanings upon the surface. Gorim said you had gone to your sisters, I didn't realise that it meant lover. Perhaps it means mistress when a man uses it, no?' I heard Zevran make an 'ah' sound as he made the connection.

'She knows your husband?' I finally heard the man's voice as I stepped nearer; smooth and refined – a knight perhaps, or somebody more.

'She's his bloody _ex_-lover,' she spat as if it was the most disgusting thing in the world. 'Going to run off to him and tell him about us are you? You didn't see _anything_. This gentleman was simply helping me along after I hurt my ankle.' She pouted, shifting her weight to one leg and raising the other. The man automatically grabbed her elbow to stop her falling.

'No I'm not.' Aeri Saelac's eyes widened in surprise momentarily before narrowing; there was no innocence in this girl, how had Gorim been duped so completely? He had fallen into a trap as old as the Caste system. I hated her more than I could have ever thought possible, and she was going to feel my wrath. You did not steal from an Aeducan and expect to get away with it – and she had stolen the thing closest to my heart. I was going to ensure that hers was as bereft as mine by the time I was through with her.

'Instead I'm going to give you a choice.' My voice was casual; if the girl knew anything about me she would have known it meant danger. 'You can either come with me now and confess everything to Gorim – and your father – agree to an annulment, recompense him for your dowry, and leave Denerim with your... _friend_,' I sneered at the word.

The woman scoffed. 'Or?'

'Or, I will kill your _friend_ right here and now.' My hands tightened on the hilt of my blades and the pair noticed them for the first time, their bodies stiffening, Aeri's foot dropped back to the floor instantly, all pretence gone.

Zevran stepped behind me, his own swords still drawn, and dropped his lips to my ear. 'Are you sure about this? What if you are wrong?'

I laughed, coldly. 'I am not wrong, trust me. It is an old trick in Orzammar. Woman gets pregnant with a lower caste's spawn and tricks a higher caste into her bed. Claims the child as his, elevates herself. The higher castes caught onto it eventually. My father even barred his whole house from taking lower caste lovers for fear of diluting the blood lines with common, or worse, Duster, blood.'

'Okay,' Aeri's hands went up in a sign of surrender. 'I admit, the babe is Glenn's, but you don't understand, my father has never left dwarven traditions behind. I'm a _surface_ dwarf, I was born here. I don't know, follow or recognise the ways of Orzammar willingly. It's not fair that I wasn't free to love who I wanted to – you, of all people, should understand that. Right?' She tried to plead her case, knowing that I had once been in such a conundrum, not understanding that pleading had never worked when I was judging someone I knew to be guilty. 'My father pressured me to get Gorim to marry me, he didn't understand that he wasn't interested, that he waiting for his bloody Heart!

'And then I found out I was with child, the same day he heard your news.' I inhaled quickly and heard Zevran tutting behind me. 'I took my chance. I _had_ to-'

'Tell Gorim or lose your lover. Pick or I will choose for you.'

My eyes flickered to the man behind her, his hands had moved for his own weapon, understanding that either way a fight was going to occur. He would not let his lover be taken to her husband and if Aeri betrayed him to save her own neck he wasn't going down without a fight.

With Aeri sobbing that she couldn't choose, but begging me not to kill Glenn I made my choice. Although it was evident that both he and I had been drinking, I was used to fighting with a belly full of ale and nought else, but it was clear he was not; his reactions were not as quick as I imagined they would have been if he had been sober. After a feeble attack, I swiped my blades across her lover's throat; a strained gargling noise was the only sound he made as he collapsed to the floor, his blood draining into the gutters that carried the filth of the city to the sea.

Moving to stand behind her shaking form, I grabbed Aeri's hair, pulling her head back into the crook of my neck. Holding my blade, still covered with her lover's blood, to her throat I whispered, 'The only thing keeping him going right now is the thought of that babe. I will not cause him to lose that hope.' I removed my blade and threw her forward. She fell to her knees and shivered as she peered up at me through her short fair hair.

'My Heart is not a happy man; you had better make him so, Aeri. You had better make him feel like he is the most beloved man in all of Thedas.' I crouched down to face her. 'Because if I find that he ever has a reason to worry about your faithfulness, and believe me I will find out, I will ensure that you will never get a third chance.' I looked at my dagger, turning it so what little moonlight fluttering through the clouds glittered off the blood covered steel. 'And if you are still with child at that time, I will cut it from you and hand it to him myself.'

Her eyes widened in horror at my words, her mouth opening to speak but unable to articulate the terror she felt. Instead she nodded, before stumbling to her feet and running, full pelt, down the streets we had walked moments before.

'But it is not his child,' Zevran murmured softly as he came up behind me. 'You could have told him, set him free and been with him again.'

'No,' I shook my head sadly, unable to take my eyes off the lifeless form of the man I had just killed. _He_ hadn't done anything wrong and yet I had taken his life out of anger, out of vengeance. Could I claim it was to regain my honour? Or that of Gorim's without him knowing?

'No? I do not understand.'

'I told him the truth before I left.' I turned to the elf. 'My life may end at any time on this stupid quest we've undertaken, and the thought of him living through this again, of him waiting, always wondering, hearing false reports... I couldn't do that to him again. This way he has a _chance_ of happiness. He always wanted to be a father.'

'I can make all of this disappear for a while,' Zevran offered as he stepped towards me. 'This pain, this torture that you have endured this day. Let me make it better, if only for an hour or two.' He reached up and brushed the dishevelled tendrils that had fallen from my ponytail behind my ear.

'Zevran-'

'My thought is this; we retire to your room at the Inn and I show you the sort of massage skills that one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse.' His lips brushed my own with the softest of touches, sending unwanted sensations down my spine.

_Take the elf if you must._

_No._

When I refused to respond to his attempt at seducing me, his eyes opened slowly, and although I was not surprised to see disappointment within them, I was surprised by the concern within his azure orbs. I smirked as his eyes glanced downwards to where my hand was as my dagger tapped his groin.

'That's as much as you get, understand?' He nodded, stepping back, his hand dropping to his side as he released a sigh whilst I sheathed my weapon. 'I want only one thing from you right now; I want you to train me in the ways of an assassin.'

o-O-o

_Soooooo... how did that sit with you? It was my first real sex scene that I ever wrote... *ahem*_

_In regards to the calendar of Thedas: I know that I listed this once before, but just to remind everyone. The Annums represent the changing of the seasons. I stick with the normal Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter when talking about the seasons in general as Gorim actually uses Spring when talking about the birth of his child during conversation. I also make the assumption that Wintersmarch is January as then the August months are the same as ours and it's less confusing. Remember their year is five days shorter than our year as there are only 30 days in each of their months. _

_Annum__: First Day _

**First Month**: _Wintermarch _

_Annum__: Wintersend _

**Second Month**:_ Guardian _

**Third Month**:_ Drakonis _

**Fourth Month**:_ Cloudreach _

_Annum__: Summerday _

**Fifth Month**:_ Bloomingtide _

**Sixth Month**:_ Justinian _

**Seventh Month**:_ Solace _

_Annum__: Funalis _

**Eighth Month**:_ August _

**Ninth Month**:_ Kingsway _

**Tenth Month**:_ Harvestmere _

_Annum__: Satinalia _

**Eleventh Month**:_ Firstfall _

**Twelfth Month**:_ Haring _

_Taken from the Dragon Age Wiki._


	22. Chapter XXII: Capital Woes

Chapter Twenty-Two – Capital Woes

_Just... a little... more, _Lowena told herself, her fingers stretching as much as they could towards the brightly coloured feather. _Another... tiny bit_... She pushed herself up on her tip toe, trying to get that breath of space between her and her favourite quill that had fallen over the balcony of the Warden Compound and landed on one of the banners that hung below.

Her fingers brushed the beautiful blue plume, but it only severed the knock it further from her reach. _Perhaps... if I could just-_

She cried out in terror as she lost her balance, her body falling over the railing. She tried to grab onto something but all her fingers could reach was air. _Maker save me! _she managed to pray as she closed her eyes and waited to meet the stone far below her... but she didn't.

'For a little woman, you sure are heavy,' a voice grunted from above her, and she realised, as she opened her tightly shut eyes, that she wasn't falling to her death, but dangling in mid air whilst someone had hold of her ankle. She felt like a rag doll that one of the Mabari had gotten hold of as she dangled by one leg with her skirts around her head!

'Someone!' her rescuer called out, his voice still muffled by her dress. 'Someone, please, give me a hand!' A number of doors creaked open and a dozen Grey Wardens charged out, ready to encounter whatever evil was attacking them during their sleep.

'By the Stone!' she heard one exclaim as a number of heavy footsteps dashed to aid her unknown hero. She moaned in pain as they grabbed at her leg, almost pulling it from the socket, but it was pain she could endure for the sake of her life. Or so she thought, until she was heaved back over the railing and came face to face with her rescuer; one Alistair Theirin, Prince of Ferelden, Teyrn of Gwaren, Arl of Amaranthine, Deputy Commander of the Grey Wardens, and the only man on this earth that she would never have wished to have been stuck looking at her undergarments as she dangled upside down.

_You should have let me fall,_ she half joked to the Maker.

'Are you okay?' he asked, helping her to sit on a chair, ever the gentleman. 'Your leg? Your head?'

'Just _what, _by the Ancestors tits, did yer think yer were doing?' A _very_ hairy dwarven Warden, who resembled more a beard with legs than an actual man, demanded as he pushed Alistair out the way to hold her face in his hands. She tried to jerk back, but the dwarf held fast. 'Don't look like she 'it 'er noggin,' he finally declared, his accent far different to any other dwarf she had encountered. 'But, just to be sure, best she not sleep tonight. Don't want 'er never wakin' up again.' The murmur of the others around her obviously agreed with his sentiments.

'Hip'll be sore of a while, I'd wager,' he continued, as his hand ran unceremoniously up her leg. She squealed in shock, but again he held her fast and continued examining her leg for any breaks or damage. 'Yer might be a lil'un, but any weight 'eld like Commander Alistair was 'oldin is gonna 'urt somethin' rotten for a few days. Best restin' for the time.'

'I'll ensure she does,' Alistair told the dwarf, who finally appeared satisfied she wasn't falling apart, before he thanked them all for aiding him, and slowly they trickled back to their rooms to try and recapture whatever dreams they had been chasing. When he turned back to the scholar she felt sick as it hit her what had almost transpired.

'Th-thank you,' she finally managed to spit out as she tried to catch her shaking breath. 'If you hadn't...' she couldn't finish the idea that she'd have been lying on the cold stone floor, two stories below, with more than her skirts around her.

'Right time, right place.' He shrugged as he bent down to meet her gaze. 'You sure you're okay?' She nodded shakily. 'What exactly where you doing?'

'My quill... the one the professor gave me when I began my apprenticeship... I dropped it.'

'You should have left it there; I could have gotten one of the servants to get it down in the morning.' She nodded, realising how stupid her actions were when spoken aloud. What had she been thinking? 'You really scared me!'

'I... did?' She looked up at him, wide eyed but touched by the fact that he cared what happened to her.

'Of course.' It warmed her to hear the slight offence at her question in his voice. He was more than a gentleman; he was a shining knight in armour, galloping to the rescue of damsels in distress. The Maker himself had to have sent him here, all the way across town just to...

'Why are you in the Compound, Ser?' she asked, her brow furrowed. 'I thought you and the Commander slept at the palace?'

'Oh, don't ask...' He sighed, his hand rubbing the tiredness from one eye. 'Nyra's still in with the assembly-'

'Still? But it's after midnight!'

'I know. She's desperate to get this situation with Endrin resolved outside of the proving arena, but trying to get them to see her point of view, even as Paragon, is proving... difficult. Nigh impossible would be a better way to describe it.'

'So if she's in with the assembly, why are you here?'

'After all these years together, I can't sleep without her by my side. Strange isn't it. You spend half of your life sleeping on your own, and the other half sleeping with your wife and as much as she steals the covers and tries and take over the bed – even though she barely needs half as much as I do,' he smiled fondly at the thought. 'The moment she's not lying next to me, sleep is just impossible. Of course it doesn't help that there are hundreds of thousands of Darkspawn thoughts itching under my skin at the moment.'

'Oh.' She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she thought about his words. 'You feel them a lot then? Down here?'

'It's not so bad when you get used to it, but for the first few days we're here it's almost maddening. The Wardens based here can almost ignore them completely after a while. Tell you what,' he said after a moment's silence as she took in what he had said. 'Why don't we carry on with our tale? I can't really tell you much of what Nyra did around Denerim. She did a lot of underhanded things when she was with Zevran in the city; some might still take offense at what transpired – hiding murders, covering plots, stealing from the treasury – but I can tell you what the rest of us did, although it's not really that exciting...'

o-O-o

Although the sun shone high above them, a chill wind caused her thick cloak to flutter slightly and her flesh to pimple, but she bade it no heed; her wet eyes transfixed upon the man who had torn her heart asunder. Tears glistened on her cheeks as though they were pearls freshly taken from the sea and she made no move to hide them, assuming that the shadows still concealed her, but they had fallen away some time ago. He had watched her since, hypnotized, her sadness giving her a beauty that he could not comprehend; it caught his breath and made him question if such a person could truly exist.

She was oblivious to his presence; he had been sitting on the dusty floor of an all too familiar alleyway listening to the off-key melody of a woman through a window high above him and a group of small children playing at the other end of the dark corridor. It was a familiar place for him, a place he had sat many times throughout his years as a trainee. The songs had changed over time, the children had appeared and grown in number, but it had always been a comfort for him to sit in this very spot and just be part of a family, even if they did not know it. Of all the alleyways she could have chosen, she had come to his.

He stood, as quietly as his large, clumsy frame would allow, and stepped towards her.

'Nyra.' She didn't jump, she didn't flinch; it was as if she knew he had been there the whole time. She sniffed loudly and wiped at her cheeks and forced a smile to her face as she turned to him, unable to meet his eyes as her lower lip desperately tried not to wobble. 'Don't,' he whispered as he reached down and tipped her face up to his, his hands gently cupping her face, his large, calloused thumbs wiped away the tears that still clung to her lashes. 'Don't pretend with me; don't think that you have to be someone you're not.' Her small hands wound themselves over his wrists, trying to remove his touch as she hiccupped and shook her head.

'Be sad, mourn him, Nyra, but don't pretend,' he told her firmly, refusing to let go, forcing her to look at him. 'I want you to be who you are; I don't want you to hide from me-' His words were cut off as she burst into tears, her eyes tightly shut, her head frantically trying to shake 'no'. He sighed and pulled her into him, her head resting upon his chest, one arm around her shoulders, the other winding into her hair, stroking it softly to calm her tears.

'Nyra,' he sighed her name. 'Why do you pretend? Why do you not trust me?'

He looked across the square to where her Second was standing calling to men to see his wares, and sighed again. 'I will do everything in my power to show that you can trust me, this I swear. Nyra, I will _never_ hurt you.'

'Alistair.' Her voice was thick and husky, and its low tones did something to him that just made him want to crush her against him and ravish her mouth with his. 'Thank you... I want to trust, I just don't know how anymore... You mean so much to me and I...' Her voice trailed off as her eyes dropped to his lips as he licked them, a warm desire flickering within her gaze and she lifted herself ever so slightly towards him. Without a second thought he bent to meet her, taking a breath as his lips were just a brush away-

Alistair jolted awake and groaned in disappointment. _That _was what he had wanted to do earlier that day when he had seen her in the alleyway; instead he had sat there until she had gathered herself together and stepped out of the narrow corridor, her face a mask of indifference. He inwardly cursed himself again as he tried to make the uncomfortable strain against his sleeping britches disappear before he rolled over. It wouldn't do for Nyra to still be lying awake across the tiny room and see him in such a state.

But he needn't have feared, as when he rolled over there was no sign of the dwarf that occupied his thoughts. It appeared that she hadn't even entered the room yet. He pulled the curtain back and jumped at the cat that stared at him with strange golden eyes. It jumped of the ledge with an angry meow and he peered up at the sky trying to gauge the time. It was certainly the early hours of the morning – where was she?

Curious, he stepped out of the room and padded as quietly as he could down the corridor so as not to disturb the occupants of the rooms he passed. A light flickered in the parlour and a low murmur of voices was the only sound above his light footsteps.

'_Mia dolce_, what work do you expect us to get?' Zevran's smooth voice chuckled as he spoke the words. 'That of merchants or accountants? We are all trained killers – warriors, bards, assassins... even magi! Perhaps Wynne can gain some coin discreetly as a healer within the city, but there is nothing for us other than that of mercenaries.' Alistair glanced through the open door way to see them sitting on the parlour couch, their backs to him, in front of a warming fire. Zevran's arm lay lazily across the back of the simple seat and Nyra sat within its span; it was far too cosy for Alistair's liking.

The night before she had returned with the assassin after venturing to Gorim's earlier that eve and now they had spent all night curled up within the parlour.

_If he hurts her, I'll kill him,_ he vowed to himself. _Maker as my witness._

'We shall have to acquire work through some contacts that I have within the city. Perhaps a few jobs with them should line our coffers nicely.'

'We are not doing anything illegal, Zevran,' Alistair interrupted them. The elf shrugged without turning, as if he had known Alistair had stood there all along. Nyra, however, jumped at the sound of his voice, her head turning sharply to take him in. 'The Wardens' reputation is already besmirched by Loghain's lies – I won't have it tainted anymore through underhanded jobs that you get us.'

Trying to appear casual as he leaned against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest, he waited for a response, but neither said anything. Zevran appeared taken in by a piece of parchment that Alistair now saw they had been examining, but Nyra... his cheeks flushed as her steel-blue eyes lingered over his bare chest and then moved lower towards-

'I completely agree, Nyra.' Zevran nodded firmly, still not looking towards the Templar-Warden. Alistair blinked for a second, wondering what his dwarven counterpart had said.

'What?' she squeaked, her head whipping back to the elf, her flushed face filled with confusion and slight panic.

'I said, I agree with you.' The elf sighed as he dropped the piece of parchment back to the table and turned to look his companion square in the eye. 'Alistair does indeed have a body that the Maker himself would be jealous of. The man is a god – if Andraste herself had to choose between him and the Maker, I believe she would choose our gorgeous Chantry-boy here.'

'Zevran!' Nyra exclaimed; however, she could not help but look towards her fellow Warden, her eyes filled with a heat that startled him and did something to his stomach that sent messages to other parts of his body. He dropped his arms, hoping to hide the instant effect she had on him. 'I'm going to our room... bed... To _my _bed! Oh Maker!' he stammered as he left, cursing the damn elf to an eternity in some hellish place for his evil ways.

o-O-o

He barely had any sleep that night, counting the time it took Nyra to come back to their room. Although her nightmares had started to become infrequent since they had left Soldier's Peak Morrigan was not about to risk being thrown out of the apartment he had secured for them for a few nights and thus insisted that they continue to share accommodations whilst within the city.

The night before, Nyra had returned not much earlier than tonight, but was far noisier as she splashed water all over herself before jumping into bed shivering. When he had gotten up to offer her an extra blanket she had yelped a surprised 'No!' and pulled the covers high up to her neckline. He had realised why the following morning, when he had awoken and saw her sprawled across her bed, covers around her feet. The bites of passion across the crest of her bosom not covered by her sleeping shirt told the story of what had transpired – however, whether they were from her former lover or a new one he did not know. When she had come down for breakfast, her tunic was fastened tightly and it appeared that, whoever that night's lover had been, she deeply regretted her actions by the silence she kept.

He pretended to sleep again when the door opened and she crept silently into the room. She quickly divested herself of her clothes, glancing over her shoulder to him to check he was asleep before she moved towards the mirror behind the small water jug and bowl – he had taken it off the wall for her when they had first taken the room. He peeked again, swallowing hard, when he heard her breast wrappings being undone and watched curiously as she peered at her own chest in the small looking glass; he assumed it was to check the progress of the bites disappearing, but the deep, dark welts remained.

He heard her curse harshly in a language he assumed to be of her people and closed his eyes before she turned around. When she had finally climbed into bed and her breathing had settled, he chanced looking across to the woman whom he had come to care more for than anyone else he had ever met.

Everyone in his life had let him down in some shape or form; fostered out by his father, cast aside by the Arl, abandoned to the Chantry, his brothers taken from him in war, and now he was losing her...

No he had never had her. She had said from the start that she could be nothing more than a friend, and that is what she had been. He had never really had a friend in his life; no one had taken their time to know him. Shunned by those below him that knew his true lineage as being too superior, and dismissed by those above him for being nothing but a lowly bastard. He had never had a place in the world until she had come along and given it to him. Even in the Wardens... Oh sure he'd had rank, but when the fight came, he was pushed to the side and given a job that any man should have been able to do.

_A treasured advisor she will be... her heart is large, and your place within it assured…. _Flemeth's words, uttered months ago filled his head and he realised suddenly that never once had the witch stated that she would _love_ him. Never once had she uttered a relationship other than that of friend, comrade in arms, or advisor. Even a large heart, his place within it, could simply mean friendship.

He sighed and rolled onto his back. He had assumed that the witch's foretelling meant that they would be together in the way that he desired so much... or had he desired it because of what he thought the witch was telling him? Oh he really hated magic.

A shadow flickered below their door, hesitating for a moment before moving on.

He hated Elven assassins even more.

o-O-o

'Wait, wait, wait. You _pay _for _sex_?' Nyra asked staring at him incredulously as she reached down to pick up an over turned chair. The group had been charged by a Sergeant Kylon, a member of the City Watch, to empty the establishment of a group of mercenaries that were causing problems for the proprietor and her workforce.

'Well _I_ don't, but some people do, yes.' Alistair felt horrified that she might think such a thing of him, but could not meet her gaze. In fact he couldn't meet anyone's gaze at the moment. Memories of being here in the past with his fellow Grey Wardens not long after his joining still embarrassed him more than he would like to admit. Nor did he want Nyra, or any of the others, to know of his ever visiting such an establishment.

'But... _why?' _she almost begged the question.

He shrugged, his gaze still firmly on the floor. 'Because they can't get it elsewhere or they fancy a bit on the side probably. Or it's just easier than going through the effort of courtship.'

'The _effort_ of courtship?'

'Ah, has our dear boy considered this path to become a man at last; learn the ways of a woman's touch?' Zevran chuckled. 'I am sure that you'd get a hefty discount now that you have-'

'Zev, go help Leliana.' It was not a request; Alistair could hear the annoyance in Nyra's voice at the elf's mocking of him, and he could feel the heat rising up his neck at the comment. In all truth he _had_ thought of going down this route, but only because he felt that he'd never know the touch of a woman any other way, especially since Grey Wardens were not encouraged to seek long term relationships after their joining – it was too easy for you to lose sight of your duty.

'Why don't we get that drink Sanga promised us?' Nyra's voice was soft and gentle as she slipped her arm through his and led him towards the bar.

'Surely you have brothels in Orzammar,' he muttered. 'You've mentioned whores before.'

'Whores in Orzammar mean Dusters who have a patron paying for elocution lessons, finer clothes than they could ever dream of and colours to paint their faces with,' she told him as they reached the bar. 'They expect the women to bed men to secure a male child and elevate them _all_ up to a higher caste and out of Dust Town.' She sniffed and he realised that he had offended her for suggesting such a thing as practice within her city.

'Noble-hunters?'

She shook her head. 'Noble-hunters are from families of good enough standing that they can afford to promote their daughters to nobility. Dusters can't afford that kind of coin, but they're all the same really. Sex in Orzammar,' she continued on, 'isn't sold for a few bits to buy some bread, it is seen as a way to secure lines and families through the conception of a child, and in the case of the Dusters and noble-hunters, they want male babies to secure their elevation to the father's caste. Females just won't do. They're stuck with the mother, the patrons walk away, and it's yet another mouth to feed.'

'That's terrible!' Alistair looked aghast at her words, finally meeting her gaze. 'What happens to them? The baby girls?'

A sliver of guilt flickered in her beautiful eyes for a moment, only for her to push it away again. He frowned as she stated, 'It was never my problem.'

'So _have_ you never been tempted to buy a woman for the night like Zevran said?' she asked, clearly hoping that they could change the subject. 'I mean it _would_ solve the lamppost licking thing.'

He let out a frustrated sigh, and leant against the dirty bar, his head bent. 'What is the fascination with my... _virginity_? Why is it such a big thing that people think I have to lose it as soon as possible?'

'I'm sorry.' She reached out and touched his upper arm gently; he slid his gaze to her for a moment before groaning.

'Okay, okay, yes I _thought_ of it. The other Wardens even offered to buy me a night when they found out I'd been raised in the Chantry... Let's just say I face Darkspawn with more bravery than I do women. They got me in the room, she walked in wearing... well, not a lot, and I bolted quicker than Bert chases after rabbits.'

'That's quick,' she smiled softly at him. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of, Alistair.' He sank onto a bar stool, turning slightly to finally face her properly. He didn't need to know a woman intimately to be a man.

'Then why is it such a big deal that I still don't know the pleasures of... lamppost licking?' Nyra let out a soft chuckle and he couldn't help but smile at her. 'I do want to know, but I want it to be right, right? The first time I know a woman, I want it to be with someone special, someone who wants to know me, _only_ me, is committed to me, and not someone thinking of the next John who's waiting outside. Is that so bad?'

'Absolutely not.' She bit her lip and contemplated him for a second. 'When the right person comes along, and she will, and you're absolutely sure that she's the one you want to spend forever and a day with, the person you know you'd die for, it will be the most amazing experience you will ever have.' She seemed to think for a moment, pondering her own words and surprisingly her gaze turned sad as she added; 'Just make sure that they feel that way about you too. Never accept anything less.'

The barmaid plonked their mugs of ale in front of them and Nyra quickly grabbed hers and turned, heading back to the others as Alistair watched her go. Zevran stood as she arrived and slipped his arm around her, whispering into her ear. She nodded eagerly and slipped away with the elf, to where, he did not know.

How had he ever thought he had a chance with such a woman? He'd never have a chance with any woman, not in the way he wanted.

o-O-o

He was brooding again. He saw Morrigan throwing him one of her 'I'm losing what little patience I have with you' looks as she flirted with an unattractive guard trying to garner some information about the Grey Warden supporter meetings they'd been hearing about. It wasn't the first time she had used this tactic and it had worked like a charm, just as it was now.

Seven days they'd been in Denerim, and during that time the group had separated into two factions; the rogues and everyone else. They came together every evening and spoke of their progress, counting up the coins they had earned and working out how much more they needed. Since the night at _The Pearl_ when Nyra had left with Zevran it had been all business between them all. Or at least it had between the two parties – his party was getting on with each other far better than they ever had before. But he really missed Nyra; their chats around the campfire had been his favourite part of the day when they were on the road.

He sighed heavily as he leaned casually against the wall of the alleyway he was hidden in, earning another look from the witch. He was supposed to be keeping watch, waiting for his cue.

When they had started on this crazy quest he had been sure that they would be able to do it; perhaps _he _wouldn't be able to, but something about Nyra just made him sure that _she_ could. The way she talked, fought, reasoned; everything screamed at him that she was made for this kind of thing, that she had been raised to unite an army and lead it to victory against their enemy. But since the two of them had spoken about... things at _The Pearl_, she had withdrawn from him, from everyone except for Zevran and Leliana. He didn't trust the assassin as far as he could throw him, and he was severely uncomfortable with Nyra and Leliana spending so much time with him, but every time he broached the subject with the two women they merely shook their heads, laughing, until Leliana had likened him to an overprotective big brother and then Nyra had withdrawn completely; only counting the coins they had before sitting in the chair that they now referred to as hers, reading whatever manuscripts she could find regarding the history of Fereldan.

Morrigan's soft and sweet laughter danced across the street to his ears and he tipped his head towards her in mild surprise. He had never heard her sound so... warm and friendly before. Her laugh was normally cold and harsh. He glanced across to the mage; she had dressed in common clothing, ensuring she didn't come across as a wild apostate, her thick raven hair lay loose around her shoulders, tumbling in curls – a vast contrast to the hair he had been admiring on their travels.

Her eyes were wide and innocent, her lips full, her head tilted to one side, cast slightly downwards whilst her hands rested softly on her belly. She leaned against the wall opposite him, as the guard, so eager for a woman of her beauty to take an interest in him, stood over her, leaning with his head lowered, his mouth near her ear. If he didn't know any better he would swear they were already lovers.

And that was what was making him feel utterly hopeless. He had never known that attraction, emotions such as desire and need, could be faked so easily. Morrigan was certainly teaching him that. He sighed again as he watched the apostate laugh easily once more at something the man said before fluttering her eyelashes demurely at him.

Although Nyra had told him she couldn't return his feelings for her, he hadn't been able to get rid of them. He had tried when they had first left the tower, keeping a little distance between them, but she had always sought him out. She had said she would be his friend and she had been that – she had lent him her ear when he needed to talk, a shoulder when he needed to cry, and had even laughed at all his jokes, no matter how bad they had been. None of it had felt faked, none of it had seemed put on, until Gorim had broken her heart and suddenly she wanted him, Alistair, in her bed.

He sighed heavily _again_.

'Are you okay, Alistair?' Wynne's kind voice interrupted his moping thoughts.

'Can all women do that?'

'Do what?'

'Pretend. Switch their emotions on and off again?'

'Is this about Nyra?' the elderly mage asked kindly, keeping her voice low. Another deep sigh was enough of an answer. 'She is just hurting, Alistair, and trying to find a way to deal with it.'

'Really? By... With... But _him_?' The mage smiled softly at him and nodded her head. 'I don't understand.'

'No one does, until they go through it themselves. I pray that you never do.' She patted his arm lightly. 'She's just trying to protect herself from getting hurt again. You are a very charming and handsome young man, Alistair, and I have seen her glancing at you when she thinks no one is looking...

'Although perhaps it is not as you think, perhaps she is protecting you, more than she is protecting herself.'

'That makes no sense whatsoever,' he muttered shaking his head. He turned his attention back to the witch as she forced herself to blush as the man ran his finger down her cheek. He wanted to laugh knowing that she hated being touched and then realised something.

Morrigan might have been pretending, but she was doing it to help him. She wasn't doing it for her own gain; she _really _didn't want this man from the unrepeatable curses she had spilled when she had first set eyes upon him. Could Nyra be doing the same? But what could she be protecting him from?

'You know, I imagine my son would have grown up to be someone like you; handsome, sweet yet strong and determined. Someone devoted to those he cares about.'

'What? Your... your son?' He turned to the mage. He hadn't even realised that mages could get married. 'I didn't think you were ever married?'

'I never have been.'

'Oh, so this wasn't... before your joined the circle?'

'I joined the circle at the age of nine. So, no.'

'Oh.'

Morrigan laughed again, holding her hand to her mouth as she peered up at the man in front of her. Alistair rolled his eyes; that was his cue.

He fixed a frown to his face, hoping he looked angry and threatening. Stomping around the corner of the alleyway he stopped and called out, his voice low and moody.

'Megan? There you are.' He moved towards the pair; he stood tall, with his shoulders square and towered above the guard the witch had been sweet talking. Morrigan instantly pulled away from the guard, as the man took a step back, threatened by the almost-Templar's presence, even though he was wearing common clothing instead of either of his suits of armour. 'Get home. Now.' He growled pointing towards the alleyway where Wynne was standing, tapping her foot impatiently, scowling at them all.

'I, err... excuse me.' The man bowed away from them, careful not to turn his back to them until he turned a corner.

'Well done, perhaps you are not completely hopeless after all,' Morrigan complimented him, running her fingers under his chin, before walking towards Wynne and down the passageway to where Sten and Bert were waiting. Alistair smiled, his back going slightly straighter.

o-O-o

They had been in _The Wonders of Thedas_ when the rogues had come crashing into the store, all talking over one another about The Crows, or more precisely, a Crow _Master_, being within the city. It had taken Sten, Nyra and Leliana to stop him from strangling Zevran, thinking that the elf had alerted his former masters to their presence in the capital. Nyra had finally calmed him down, telling him that if it hadn't been for Zevran she would have walked right up to them, as they had something called a 'nug' for sale on their exotic store.

Now he was sat in the parlour waiting for Wynne, Morrigan and Nyra to do something to Zevran that would hopefully mask his appearance. Alistair had no clue what they were going to do, but it had made Nyra, who had become unusually subdued since they had come into the city, very nervous when she and the two mages had vanished for the afternoon to purchase something. They had now been waiting for what felt like hours, when really it had been less than half of one, since they disappeared into the elf's room.

The door to the parlour opened and the three not involved in the transformation all stared up expectantly. Leliana was able to see the elf first, sitting as she was in front of the fire. She gasped when her eyes fell upon him.

'Non!' she exclaimed. 'That cannot be!' She jumped up and moved towards the door, causing even greater curiosity within Alistair, although he was trying hard not to show it. '_Qu'est-ce__…_? Impossible.'

Finally the elf stepped fully into the room and Alistair saw what was causing such a reaction in the bard. Zevran's hair, which had been golden in colour, was now as dark as night. His blue eyes, now more striking than ever because of the contrast of his hair, twinkled in amusement as he took in Alistair's stunned expression.

'You approve, my handsome Grey Warden? Does it flatter me so much?'

Alistair had no idea what to say; even Zevran's obvious flirtation could not wipe the astonishment from the Templar-Warden's face. 'How did she...?' Zevran shrugged, turning to smile at the animated bard whose fingers were clearly itching to touch his newly coloured locks.

'Where is she?' he asked Wynne as he realised that Nyra had not joined them.

'She went to her room,' Zevran answered before the mage could as he sat on the floor with the over excited bard, clearly enjoying the attention that Leliana was giving him.

'It makes your eyes so... wow...' Leliana breathed. 'Even your eyebrows are darker!' Alistair left the room to Zevran's rich laughter.

He knocked lightly on the door to their chamber before he popped his head through. She was sitting on his bed, staring up at the night sky, darkened all the more by the lack of moonlight. Her white hair a stark contrast to the shadows she sat within, for not a single candle was lit.

'It worked.' Her voice was but a whisper as she spoke, but Alistair could feel the relief from her.

'There was a chance it wouldn't?' he asked stepping into their room and closing the door behind him. They hadn't been alone together for almost a fortnight when he had returned to the camp and told her about Gorim. Every evening she would wait for him to retire and fall asleep before she ventured into their room, not realising that he never slept until she'd come to bed too.

He leaned against the closed door and watched as she nodded her head, continuing to stare out into the night sky. 'They said it was smaller than... than when Runa did it to me, but there was still a chance. I didn't want to hurt him...'

'Did it to you? Hurt him? Nyra what are you talking about?'

She turned her head and looked at him as if she hadn't realised he was there, before turning back to the moonless night outside the dirty pane of glass. 'My hair wasn't always this colour you know,' she began and patted the bed for him to come sit with her. 'It was a deep chestnut and filled with beautiful lose curls.'

Crossing the room his step faltered as a memory he had tried to forget sprang up from his unconscious mind. 'Just like the girl in the...'

'Fade,' she finished for him and waited for him to take a seat. 'My father adored my hair, it was my pride and joy, but it was a huge problem for my mother. Both my parents were fair haired, my older brother was too. In fact, on both sides of the family, there was not a dark-haired ancestor that anyone could recall – I stuck out like a nug in a mushroom crop.'

'One of them was not your real parent...?'

Nyra shook her head. 'Runa was my stepmother, but Orzammar _had _to believe she was my real mother or else-'

'Or else you wouldn't have been able to stay with your father.' Nyra nodded, confirming his assumption. 'Was she a Duster or a noble-hunter?' A short, cold laugh escaped from her lips at his question.

'Oh if it were so simple. No, my mother was neither; she was from the surface-'

'A surface dwarf? Part of a merchant caravan?' He saw her hesitate before she nodded her answer. He realised that, as a noble, her father would have been forced to give her to her mother's caste and as a surface dweller he would never have seen her again. For the trouble he must have gone through to ensure he kept her as a babe, why did he turn his back on her when accused of her brother's murder?

'That's another story,' she told him, her voice telling him not to push her into telling it just yet. 'Runa had no choice but to obey my father. She had betrayed him years before and he had never trusted her afterwards – she was lucky to have her life still. They faked her pregnancy and passed me off as her child; my real mother returning to the surface shortly afterwards, and my father and I never saw her again.

'Runa feared my colours, feared they would cast doubt on her claim. People would mention how beautiful my hair was, but unusual for an Aeducan.'

_That name again_, Alistair thought, caught for a moment by a flicker of recognition. _The shield Gorim gave her must have been her family's... but where did I hear it before?_

'She would just laugh and say, "Not so, Trian's was similar until he grew out of it". Trian was thirteen years older than I was, so people didn't remember, they accepted her words...'

'But you never grew out of it?' She shook her head sadly and peered up at him through her fringe. She was still kneeling on his bed, her hands clasped in her lap; she looked so demure, so fragile, no one would ever guess she was such a hardened leader of armies. It was a moment before she continued, her voice distant as if she was back in Orzammar, back in the past reliving the memories that she spoke.

'I looked just like my father, so my parentage was never _really_ called into question; people were genuinely just passing compliments to me, but Runa didn't understand. My hair was just as my mother's was and she couldn't stand the reminder, couldn't bear to remember why my father hadn't touched her in so long... I was wandering down the corridor one day, I think I was barely five years of age, when she had her servants grab me and drag me to my room... I was forced into a scalding hot bath and dunked under the water until the curls went limp... that was when she applied the dye.'

'It turned your hair white?' Alistair asked in shock, his fingers reaching out slowly to touch the hair that he had admired so much as they had travelled, hair that felt so soft to the touch, that smelled of fire and ice and tempted him to play with it as much as he could.

'"It was only meant to go lighter", she pleaded when my father had found us.' Nyra continued, lost in the memory she was retelling. 'The lotion had burned so badly that I had screamed and screamed until the guards had sent for my father; they destroyed the doors to my room as Runa refused to open them until she was sure that my hair would be fair. I remember feeling that my head was on fire, that my hair was going to fall out... no matter how much water, chilled with ice from the mountains outside, they poured on my head, it still felt that it was burning weeks after she did it.

'My father even called for help from the Circle Tower, with permission from King Maric of course, but even they were stumped as how to solve the problem. It took months, but eventually the burning stopped; however the colour never returned.'

'Yet you wear it long, instead of short,' Alistair mused, picking up the slice of hair that had fallen over her shoulder and admiring it in the dim light that the stars provided.

'At first we cut it, hoping that the colour would grow back. Later, when I understood more about what had happened, I wore it as a mantle. Runa had tried to hurt me, but I was stronger than she could ever imagine. I wore it so that she would remember that she had tried and failed, and that I was still my real mother's child. I might not have her colouring anymore, but I had once. My white hair reminded her of that every time she saw me.'

'You were worried that Zevran would suffer as you did?'

'The Magi we went to, they said removing colour, which is what Runa did, has more chances of problems arising; adding colour, which is what we did tonight has fewer risks, but is not without them. They also said that my being of the Dwarva would have added to complications when mine was done... We react to magic differently than humans they said.'

'Thank you.'

She looked at him in confusion, bringing herself out of her memories. 'For what?'

'For sharing that with me, for letting me in, for...'

'I never... It's not that _don't_ want to "let you in", Alistair, it's just I... I have no right to talk of these things.'

'What?'

'I told you, I am an exile. I was stricken from the memories of my people. My past gone; I never existed to them or to the Ancestors. I have no right to a past, no right to speak of what I remember...' She turned back to looking out the window, her shoulders carrying the weight of her sorrow.

'So was all that written in the... memories? Even though no one knew Runa wasn't your real mother?' he asked confused.

'No,' her voice was distant again. 'No one but my family and a few select guards know of that.'

He frowned at her response; 'Is it written anywhere about your real mother?'

'Well, no.'

'Then... how can they take that away from you? How can anything that _you _lived through, that only _you _experienced be taken from you?' She bit her lip, pondering on his words.

'I guess they can't,' she finally admitted.

'Unless you let them. Don't let them.'

'I... it's not them that I'm worried about,' she confessed, and he saw the change in her immediately. Her eyes darted around the room, at the closed door, the lack of light, the closeness of the two of them.

'Nyra?' He reached out to her, and on instinct she smacked his hand away from her and quickly climbed off the bed. 'Nyra!'

'I'm sorry,' she offered, her voice higher than usual. 'I need to go and check on Zevran.'

He felt his jaw clench as she said the elf's name, but he waited until she had scurried out of the room, half falling over her own feet at the speed with which she left, before he punched his pillow in sheer frustration.

o-O-o

'Nyra!' Leliana's startled yelp alerted him to a problem across the room as he was getting another round of drinks for the group that had found common ground again. Since Nyra had revealed her past to him she had avoided being alone with him even more so and often he would find her asleep on a chair or bench in the parlour when he awoke in the morning.

However, it was not all a lost cause. She had suddenly come to life again within the group of an evening and had suggested spending a few spare coins this evening at _The Pearl_. With their impending exit of the city to head back on the long and daunting trip to find the Dalish elves, the party had definitely been welcoming to the suggestion.

He ran across the room as he saw the pretty dark-haired head of Isabella, the pirate they had all been introduced too, smash into a table.

'Zevran, let me go!' the bard exclaimed as Alistair stopped in shock at the scene he was witnessing.

'You cannot stop a cat fight in a whorehouse, _cara_,' Alistair heard the Antivan purr, above the din the gathering crowd around the women was creating. 'It is up to Nyra and Isabella to resolve their differences. If they wish to fight over a man in such an alluring manner, let them.'

Alistair felt his muscle tense. Ever since they had first been introduced to Isabella it was clear that she and Zevran had a past that involved far more than just smuggling and death. The way she ran her hands through his hair, murmuring how beautifully it suited him, gave the familiarity of lovers rather than associates.

Nyra had not seemed bothered at first, and Alistair had hoped that it meant that whatever was between her and the assassin, it was nothing more than a fling. But as the night had worn on, Isabella's affections seemed to switch easily, flirting between Zevran and himself. At one point she had actually sat in his lap, and unused to such attentions, he had bumbled his way through conversations of the great stamina and prowess that the Wardens supposedly possessed, much to Zevran's amusement. He had been rescued by Wynne and Leliana, causing the pirate to pout and return to Zevran's lap, who was more than willing to give her the attention that she sought.

His eyes had flickered to Nyra, who had become mute since the woman had joined them; her tankard of the ale the pirate had bought them during her round remained untouched. Her jaw was tense, as if she was desperately trying to stop herself from launching into an attack, and his heart fluttered with a slight hope that perhaps she was jealous...

However, when Leliana and Wynne had visited the powder room, the pirate had taken that as her cue to pounce and during another very one-sided conversation she reached up and kissed him without warning or invitation. Stunned, Alistair had failed to do anything, and when he finally came to his senses and managed to wrestle the woman away from him, Nyra was nowhere to be seen. His heart sinking, feeling a complete fool, he had quickly made his way over to the bar, glad to watch as Isabella and Zevran stood and moved to the card table, setting up a game that involved high stakes.

When he had returned to the table, to drop some of their drinks off, Leliana and Nyra, along with some men he didn't recognise, had joined the duo.

Now he watched in horror, whilst the other men whistled and cheered and Sanga's girls stood on chairs to gain a better view of Nyra's small fists lashing out at the pirate's pretty face. Isabella's arms flailed at her side, trying to grab at the small dwarf, who was using her height and frame to her advantage to dodge the pirate's hands. Trying to push his way through the mob of men that crowded the two battling women, he heard, rather than saw, Isabella get in a lucky punch, sending Nyra off her, and putting her back in the fight. By the time he finally got to the front of the throng, the pair were back up and circling each other, lips bleeding, bruises all over their arms and faces – although it was clear that Isabella was far worse for wear than Nyra.

The pirate moved first, aiming low and trying to take Nyra's feet from under her, but the dwarf was ready and easily danced out of the way, swinging at the pirate and catching her square in the nose. She fell back into the arms of a man, who did nothing more than set her back on her feet and push her towards the fuming Grey Warden; and yet the pirate simply smiled and wiped her nose before she screamed and lunged for Nyra.

'Sten!' Alistair called out hoping that the Qunari had heard him. When he saw the man appear behind the crowd, his frame larger than any man within the establishment, he sighed with relief. It was effortless for the giant to wade through the throng and he reached the front much easier than Alistair had.

The women danced and moved and with a quick nod to the warrior, both he and Sten made their move. Alistair pulled Nyra up off the floor, her legs kicking out trying desperately to still inflict some damage on the woman who had somehow offended her, whilst Sten, far gentler than Alistair could have imagined, picked the pirate up and set her on her feet, holding her back from battle much as Alistair did with Nyra, to the groans of disappointment from the other patrons.

'Just what is going on here!' the smooth voice of Sanga the proprietor demanded as the men parted to allow her through. 'I will not stand fighting in my establishment,' she decreed. 'And you lot, especially, should know that!' she added when she saw who it was that had been committing the crime.

'She's a cheating _slut_!' Nyra cried out, her swollen lip causing her to lisp slightly, as she tried to wiggle out of Alistair's grasp to get back to beating the other woman senseless.

'Again, Isabella?' the woman sighed. 'That's three accusations this week. No!' The boldly dressed woman held up her hand as the pirate began to speak. 'I will not hear your protests again.' And with one swipe of her arm across the forgotten card table, she gathered all the coins and peered at the displayed cards. 'Whose cards are those?' she asked nodding at Leliana's hand.

Without hesitation the landlady deposited the winnings in the bard's hand, nodding to the bouncers that accompanied her. 'See them all off the premises boys. And I don't want to see you lot around here again.'

'At least,' Zevran declared as they were hustled out of _The Pearl_, 'we have more than enough for our supplies with our winnings; we shall be back on the road again shortly.' The others groaned slightly, although Sten seemed happiest at the prospect of getting back to the fight.

'Was she cheating, Nyra?' Alistair asked, sliding his arm around her as she stumbled. She froze for a second, her body tensing, before she carried on with his aid.

'Undoubtedly so,' Zevran answered for her – a habit that was starting to grate on Alistair. 'It is how she always wins. There are not so many people, however, who can spot it and call her on it though. Well done, my gorgeous Warden.' The Antivan turned and dipped his head to her, as she clutched at her ribs. She frowned at him, and Alistair assumed she was angry with him for bringing along the pirate in the first place – he certainly was.

'I've played with many a cheat back in Orzammar,' she finally confessed, her voice grim. 'They never cheated again afterwards.'

'Oh? And why was that?'

'Because they suddenly received orders for guard duty on the most notorious parts of the Roads,' she told him, her voice telling them all that she was back in her role as Commander. 'If you cannot win fairly, then you should not win. There is no way to cheat in battle; those men had to learn that.'

* * *

_Okay, so it's been a while since I've updated. I went into hospital in June to have my gallbladder removed, so I didn't get as much writing done over the summer as I wished to. I then had hard drive problems and I've lost half of chapter twenty-five, even though it wasn't on the disk that died! Jo, my absolultely wonderful beta, also slipped a disk over the summer so wasn't able to sit at a computer and edit - poor love! - so she's currently working over the three chapters that I sent her as fast as she can. _

_My University course has started again and I'm completely swamped with lesson planning, research and observation reports, so I have limited time to write now (seriously annoying), but I will be posting at least one chapter a month for the time being (it's rubbish I know, but it's all I can manage atm!). Please keep with me, I will get this story finished - I have to, it won't leave me alone!_


	23. Chapter XXIII: Support Group

Chapter Twenty-Three – Support Group

Lowena had been summoned to Justine's office by the beard with legs who had checked her over a few nights previous after her silly brush with death. She still felt deeply embarrassed by the whole situation and had avoided everyone, especially the devastatingly handsome commander, like the plague until today. She couldn't bear to be the topic of conversation; it was why she had wanted to write _other_ people's stories, tell their life tale rather than have to speak about her own.

In fact, her own life had never been anything she had ever considered before; her future had never been something she had pondered over. From her birth her parents had dictated her life. The moment she was able to form words they employed tutors to educate her in writing, numbers, several languages and science. When she was old enough, which would have been about this time, they would find her a husband who was of suitable enough standing to be able to support her, and any children she would bear, in the manner that she was accustomed too.

When they had died in the great fire of Denerim, seven years ago, she had been left an orphan; homeless and penniless as her father had owed debts far greater than the family vault could afford to repay. She had been most grateful to hear that the Wardens were accepting apprentices for their great archive and even more so when they sent for her.

Since then she had never considered any future other than within the walls of Vigil's Keep, but having worked alongside the Commander and her husband – her very handsome husband – Lowena was starting to wonder how it would be to have a man in love with her as much as Alistair was in love with Nyra.

She was surprised when it was said man who opened the door to Justine's office, a finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet as she made to speak. Her hand instantly fluttered to her lips to stop herself from talking and he smiled warmly at her before opening the door fully to allow her entrance.

Orzammar's Head Warden and the Warden Commander were deep in conversation as Alistair showed her a seat and whispered that they wouldn't be long before he went back to the two women.

'But Grigeson? Really?' the Commander questioned in disbelief as Justine nodded, unmoving on whatever position she had decided upon.

'I know you don't like him-'

'Like him? I don't _know_ him, it's just he's- he's from _Kal'Sharok_!' she exclaimed as if that explained it all. 'Do you know what they did? How they survived?'

'And I thought we didn't question the pasts of our Grey Wardens,' Alistair advised her gently. 'We accept all, no questions asked.'

''Cept rapists,' Nyra muttered under her breath. It was well known throughout the Wardens that no rapist was ever permitted throughout their ranks, murderers on occasion, yes, but _never_ a rapist. Alistair dropped a kiss on his wife's head and soothed her ruffled feathers.

'I know, love.'

'Grigeson then?' Justine asked as if the little moment had not taken place.

'It's not me that's going to question him.' Nyra told her, falling straight back into her role. 'It will be the Assembly. Remember the Wardens only have this outpost because it was _I _who suggested it, their Paragon and Princess who leads the most fabled Order in all of Thedas.' Nyra sighed wearily. She was fed up with titles, with the politics that her life had been led by. 'Fine, fine,' she waved her hand and stood up, walking around the desk towards the scholar. 'I'll announce it to the Assembly tomorrow and give you my support, but it's not exactly as if I'm winning my own fight right now.' Justine tipped her head to the Grey Warden Commander acknowledging her support. 'Now, if you'd excuse us, Justine...'

Lowena was amazed that the Head Warden gathered her things and bade them goodbye. 'But this is her office?' she said, thinking aloud. Nyra smiled politely at her.

'This office is for the most senior of Wardens to work from – that is Alistair and I in this case. Justine uses it when we are not here. If the First Warden was to walk through that door, I'd give the office over to him.' Nyra looked the scholar over for a second, her eyes suddenly hard and assessing. Lowena shifted uncomfortably in her chair, unused to being stared at in such a way. 'I understand you had a little mishap the other eve?'

The scholar swallowed and nodded her head as she cringed internally. 'If it wasn't for your husband, Commander, I would not be here today.'

'Then we should be grateful that I was unable to retire early that night, or else the servants would have been cleaning you up off the floor.' She paused for a second and cast a glance to her husband. 'I understand Alistair kept you company whilst it was unsafe for you to sleep and regaled you with some of our time in Denerim. I believe that he did not tell you of certain things of _my_ time within the city.' Lowena nodded again. She had wondered, considering what they were telling her and the secrets it was bound to unravel, why that had been particularly stepped over.

'I will not mention them either, Alistair was right to hide them. You see my actions within the city during that fortnight, or so, were not my best. I covered up murders and stole a lot of money during that time and set a number of people up for a fall. If anyone should gain insight into exactly what Zevran, Leliana and I did during that time, it could damage King Tristan's rule by association with us through Alistair. I will _not_ do that, understand?'

The girl nodded and Nyra finally offered her a small smile. 'Then shall we continue from a point we're more freely able to discuss, yes? I understand Alistair was talking to you about the supporter groups within the capital whilst we were there...?'

o-O-o

I had tried to stay away from him whilst I had been within the city, but I had found myself staring, watching him work his stall when I felt I had a few minutes alone. It was agony watching him, knowing that he was so close and I was unable to touch him, unable to be with him. Today, knowing that I was leaving the city for a time that only the Ancestors knew, I had crumbled. I had gone to his stall and simply whispered one word in his ear – _now_ – and he had closed up before I had even reached the alleyway behind his stand.

Feeling his hands running over me, his lips pressing against mine, I had forgotten about everything that had happened between us; being exiled didn't matter and his marriage was just an inconvenience. His kisses were wonderful against my skin; his fuzzy beard tickling my neck and sending shivers down my spine. His hands, tugging my skirts up, brushed bare skin and a moan of deep wanting escaped my lips as I thought of where else those hands ought to be brushing.

A song whispered in my ear as my ex-lover pushed his arousal against me and I gasped in delight, trying to ignore the tune that had suddenly appeared – why was I hearing music at a moment like this? But the more I tried to ignore it, as I enjoyed the touch of my former Second, the louder it became, until I sighed in frustration and sagged against the wall.

'What is it, my heart?' Gorim's deep voice rumbled against my throat and I could hear the frustration in it, how desperately he wanted me to undo his britches and allow us to become what I said we could never be again. A few seconds ago it would have encouraged me to push him against the wall behind him, sliver down his body and do the one thing he never allowed me to do, for it was far too beneath a princess to be on her knees before any man.

But I could do nothing with this melody thrumming through me, this incessant song that whispered-

_Alistair!_

I pulled myself out of Gorim's grasp quickly, not caring if he took offense, and hurriedly pushed my skirts back down into place. It was Alistair's taint that I was hearing and it was getting louder with each breath that I took. I stepped out of the alleyway blinking into the watery sunlight that Harvestmere brought, hoping that I didn't look like I had been almost ravished moments before.

The Market District was quiet due to it being lunch time, when most merchants closed their stalls due to the lull in trade, so I was surprised when I couldn't see my fellow Warden, yet still his taint called to me. I shook my head trying to clear it for a moment, as the song began to get louder again; something wasn't right. My hand fluttered to my head as I tried to focus on my own song, the taint that ran through my veins.

'My heart, what is it?' Gorim asked his voice filled with concern as he stepped out of the alleyway a moment later as composed as he could be. He reached out for me, his arm around my waist as he helped me to the stool behind his stand.

'I don't know... Alistair,' I managed to tell him, as I reached out and grasped at his shirt as the song gained a feverish height.

Concerned by my sudden state and the cry of pain I tried to suppress, my old Second fished a coin out of his pocket and tossed it to a Elven boy passing by.

'Another one for you, lad, if you bring me a Templar – Oi!' he called out as the boy made to dash towards the cathedral. 'A specific one you fool – Alistair, he's residing at an apartment...' His words disappeared and my vision began to dim as Alistair's song became so ferocious it demanded everything that I had.

And then it stopped.

'Alistair...' I whispered. 'Oh, no, Alistair...'

o-O-o

Gorim had followed me as I dashed to the rooms we were renting. I shoved people out of my way as I hurried to get through, uncaring if they saw my face or heard my name called from my former Second. If the City Watch came, I only hoped that Sergeant Kylon would be the friend he had proclaimed to us and would help me.

I almost kicked the door down before Leliana opened it, my chest heaving with breath and my heart racing in pain as I looked around the quiet abode.

'_Mon Dieu!_' the bard exclaimed as I forcibly pushed her out of the way and called out Alistair's name.

'I'm sorry,' Gorim's voice sounded behind me as he helped the bard to right herself. 'She started to act strangely, as if her head was hurting and then started rambling about Alistair. Where is the lad?'

'What, in the name of Andraste, is going on?' Zevran's silken Antivan voice came from further down the corridor as I burst into the room that I shared with my fellow Warden. My eyes fell on his already packed rucksack and his old splintmail armour that lay out upon the bed. His armour of Grey Warden Commander and his sword and shield were missing.

'Where is he?' I demanded frantically as I turned to see Zevran standing in the doorway, his azure eyes filled with confusion and concern at my actions. 'Where did he go?' I was already stripping out of my dress, unconcerned with Zevran's eyes upon me.

'I do not know – I was trying to get some sleep before we set out on our travels this eve...' Although we had the apartment for a few more days, the plan had been to leave as dusk settled that night, travelling for an hour or so out of the city skirts before we set up a quick camp. Zevran's idea of sleeping this noon-time was a sound one, for it was not easy to get used to sleeping on a cold floor after so long in the comfort of a real bed.

Leliana and Gorim appeared behind the assassin as I began to strap myself into my leathers. '_Mia dolce._' Gorim's eyes snapped on the elf at the endearment. 'What exactly has happened? Are you in trouble? Has our little Chantry-boy done something to warrant your wrath?'

'My wrath?' My hand froze on the buckle of my chestpiece as I looked at the trio crowded in the doorway. 'I'm not _angry _at him you idiots – he's in trouble! His taint... I felt it; it was burning and calling to me. They're _all_ in trouble!' Leliana's hand flew to her lips as she gasped, pushing past Zevran to help me fasten the clips I could not reach.

'They said they were off to do some work for Sergeant Kylon-' the bard began.

'He's gone looking for the support groups-' my former Second spoke.

'They're _what?' _we all chorused in unison, causing Gorim to take a step back.

'The Grey Warden supporter groups – he told me... he said that-' I had never seen my old friend stumble for words before, his tongue ready to speak on any matter on my behalf with poise and grace finer than any noble. But then, I supposed, he had never been facing _my_ anger in such matters.

We had heard of the groups when we had first arrived in Denerim, and after we had split into our little trio we had investigated the matter some. We had eventually concluded that they were a set up, a way to entrap those who still believed in our innocence and execute them without trial or reason.

'Zev, Leliana, get prepared.' I picked up my daggers, glancing at them briefly as the other two rogues disappeared. 'Gorim, I need you.' Three little words; _I need you_, and they were all I had to speak for this man to forget about his aliment, to forget that in battle he would be unable to utilise the skills he had been a master at before our exile.

'As you wish, Commander,' was his answer, and instantly we were back into the familiar role of First and Second as if all these months had never happened. It was strange to think of how much my life had changed since Bloomingtide when Bhelen had betrayed us.

With a quick bow he disappeared as I slid my blades into place.

o-O-o

'You _can't_,' I heard Aeri exclaim behind the door to the sitting room. 'You're not able to... your leg... you will be _killed_!'

'I trust her judgement, more than I trust my own blade,' I heard Gorim tell her. Leliana looked at me with astonishment at the comment. No warrior would ever admit to such a thing. 'If she says she needs me, then I am needed, if that results in my death, then the Stone take me for I am ready to die.'

I closed my eyes at his words. How many times had we spoken that exact phrase on the eve of battle as we made passionate love to one another? The door to the shop opened, jingling the little bell, and a dwarf, a little younger than my father's age, stepped through and stopped at the sight of me, his eyes wide with surprise.

'I'm afraid the store is cl-' Zevran's smooth voice was cut off by the man's sudden move to kneel before me.

'My Lady Aeducan, it _is_ you. As I live and breathe the Ancestors have blessed me.' It was the last thing that I needed as Leliana made a small 'oh' sound behind me.

'I'm sorry,' I tried to sound polite. 'But I'm afraid that I'm not who you think.'

At that moment the door to the back opened for Gorim and Aeri to step through, though their argument preceded them.

'But think about our child – _your_ child,' she tried, and it took all my will to remain impassive when the image of my slicing her lying head off her shoulders swam into my vision.

'Aeri, Gorim, what is going on?' the kneeling man asked, peering around me and again looking surprised as Gorim stepped into the room in his full set of armour, the blade that I had given him strapped to his side, his shield thrown over his back. His steps were not as strong as they had once been, but he stood as proud as I had ever seen him as he looked at me.

'My Commander has called for my arm,' he told the kneeling man as he scrambled to get up.

'_She's_ making him go and fight, father!' Aeri cried, pointing her finger at me. 'She's going to get him killed!' Her father looked at me and my companions, at his daughter and son-in-law, and then back to me again.

'I have no time for family disputes,' I snapped at them. 'Zevran, Leliana, Gorim,' I smiled on his name as I looked at Aeri. 'This way, I have a contact that I need to see before we proceed.'

'Father, stop him!' Aeri's shrill voice screamed as she ran to his side.

'Will you shut up!' he shouted in frustration, snatching his arm from her as she made to hold it whilst she whined. 'If the Lady Aeducan demands your husband to fight at her side, he will fight at her side. If the Lady Aeducan wants your first born on a platter, I would ask her which she wanted first, head or feet. She is _The Lady Aeducan_, Aeri, do you know what that means?'

'She's an _exile_,' she sneered. 'She's nothing better than you or I now, father, how can you still call her that, still give her that respect when she has done nothing to earn it?' The slap that resounded throughout the room, from her father's backhand, made me wince. She peered up at her father through her short blond hair in horror as she grasped at her reddened cheek.

'Forgive my daughter, My Lady, I tried to bring her up correctly after her mother died and, although I tried to instil in her the virtues of the Dwarva, I have failed.' I nodded solemnly to him. She was lucky she didn't reside in Orzammar, for her to act in such a manner there...

'My nephew,' Aeri's father continued, 'arrived on the surface a few weeks ago; he's in Redcliff for a time, as he adjusts to surface life. I hope to bring him here come Wintersend.' I smiled politely and nodded my head, and gave the order to move out. 'I can never thank you enough for saving his life,' he called after me. 'His arm is as good as can be, thanks to you.' I paused in my step and turned back to him a small frown on my face.

'Dalid, formally of House Seiesh.' He folded his arms across his chest and bowed deeply to me; the way of the Dwarva.

'Breg!' I exclaimed, thinking back all those months ago when I had walked the Deep Roads alone, how I had stumbled upon one of my own personal guards about to be eaten alive by the Darkspawn. Dalid nodded, beaming that I would remember his blood. 'He got out, he made it.' I breathed, relieved to hear some good news.

'He wrote to me,' Dalid continued. 'Telling me how you had saved him, how you were trying to get to the surface and that if I ever happened upon you I was to do everything that I could to help you reclaim your honour. It was also how I knew of Gorim's situation. When I saw him in Denerim I saw to it that it was our family that he joined... I just didn't realise at the time that you and... well.' He cleared his throat. I made to speak, completely floored by the connection that Aeri's family had to me, when a soft hum tickled my ear.

Alistair, wherever he was, was still alive!

o-O-o

Slim's information had been bang on the nose, I was happy to see, as I peered into the dirty window of the closed brothel, _The Pearl._ What I was not happy to see were my companions; Wynne and Morrigan knelt on the floor, their hands tied behind their backs and their heads bagged.

'It is so they cannot cast,' Leliana whispered as she, too, looked through the dirty pane. 'And if they do, they cannot see where they are throwing the spells at first; it gives the men a slight advantage.'

I strained to see where Sten and Alistair might be and then saw the Qunari lying prone on the floor a little distance from the mages. He was tied like a freshly caught Nug, except his hands and feet were bound behind him instead of in front.

'Can anyone see Alistair?' I hissed, unable to locate my fellow Warden, but able to still feel the tickle of his taint within me; he was definitely close by.

'I fear you will not like what you see.' Zevran's silky drawl had a hesitancy about it that I did not like. A muffled cry of pain sounded from within and I hurried towards the Antivan assassin as I felt a little bubble in Alistair's call to me.

Staring through the glass, at the other end of the room the others were caught in, I thought that I might throw up. Alistair was bent over a table, held down by two Qunari, devoid of his armour and shirt as a man stood to the side of him, a large whip like instrument I had never seen before grasped in his hand. I had to stop myself from crying out as he brought the whip down across Alistair's bare back, three, four, five times, before he nodded to another person I couldn't see.

I watched as a woman stepped into view and winced as she took raw salt crystals form a pot and rubbed them along Alistair's heavily bleeding back. It was only then that I realised, as my friend cried out, that he hadn't uttered a sound during the whipping.

'Paedan, this isn't working,' the salt woman said to the whipping boy.

'I don't know what you've endured in your life to make you immune to this, Warden, but I have a dozen other ways of making you talk.' He threw the whip-thing aside and grabbed a strange looking device from the table behind him.

'Pliers,' Gorim's voice sounded strangled behind me. I had never been involved in getting information from those that held it; it had been Gorim's job to ensure it was gotten. Was this what I had instructed him to do? Had he done it himself or gotten other's to do the actual task as he had watched? A deep churning guilt sat in my stomach, but I couldn't move as I watched in horror as the man grabbed Alistair's arm and brought it up to his face as if he was inspecting it.

'Where is she?' The man called Paedan demanded, and I frowned for a second wondering who he was talking about. 'We know you travel with the dwarven Warden; where is she?' I gasped in dismay as I realised they were torturing him for _me._

'I'd rather _die_ than give her over to you,' Alistair managed between gritted teeth. Paedan sighed.

'You know we will find her eventually.' He picked Alistair's little finger from his hand and in one yank he pulled the nail clear from its bed. The scream from Alistair ripped through my heart and I stumbled backwards into Gorim, making him unsteady on his feet, as I felt the ferocity of Alistair's song rip through up with the pain he endured – _that_ was what I'd been feeling.

'You never know,' the salt woman laughed. 'She might be as stupid as you are and come looking for supporters too.'

'Take a moment, Commander,' Gorim whispered in my ear, knowing full well, by the way that I moved for my blades, that I was about to go charging in, letting my anger over take me.

Another guttural cry from Alistair cut through me before his words, carried on a whimper and sob through the windows touched my ears and heart; 'Nyra wouldn't be as stupid as me.'

Another whimper caught my ear and I turned to see Bert's nose sticking out from under a crate, sniffing the air. With Zevran's help I pulled the heavy box off him and was relieved to see that he had no injuries of substance; his war hound pride seemed more damaged. Scratching him behind his ear, I thought about my options. No matter what happened to the others, it was Alistair that I had to get out of there. As the last two Grey Wardens within Ferelden, and the only hope this torn country had at uniting the treaties to aid in stopping the Blight, _he_ was the priority and I let the others know it.

'Then for you,' Zevran dipped his head as he whispered. 'I will die for him.'

'No one's dying if I can help it, Zevran. Except for those bastards torturing him.'

o-O-o

The door swung open and Gorim stood stock still within its frame and stared at the scene before him with very little concern. His eyes flickered from the bound mages and Qunari prisoner to those holding down one of the legendary Grey Wardens.

'Just what the bloody 'ell!' one of the men watching the mages cried out and the others bolted to attention at the sudden intrusion.

'Stand down,' he commanded casually as if he had been expecting exactly what was happening within the room. 'Arl Howe sent me to see if the little bastard has talked yet.' Paedan looked slightly confused and asked how the Arl knew they had him. Gorim gave a short, empty bark of laughter. 'Do you think the Arl has left you unwatched, allowed you to get up to your devices without keeping tabs on you? Do you think him stupid enough not to have foreseen the Wardens seeking these supposed groups out if they managed to make it to the city?'

He stepped into the room, kicking the door shut as he swayed over to the mages. Leliana and I moved in behind him, holding the shadows to us as his shuddering footsteps, due to his heavy plate, helped to divert any possible attention from us. He walked around the back of them, noting the tied hands of the women.

'A bag? Ha!' he barked again. 'Should take a note from our Qunari friends there and cut out their tongues – can't cast even in accident with no tongues.' The one called Paedan considered his words as Gorim continued his apparent inspection. He ignored Sten for the moment and instead moved back to the door and towards where Alistair was being held. He bent down slightly to look at Alistair's face, sneering at him in disgust, but allowing my fellow Warden to get a good look at him.

'Has he spoken yet?' Gorim asked, standing back as if he were still assessing the man pinned by the two giants. Paedan had Alistair's hand in his still, three of his fingernails were gone; I could see the blood dripping onto the floor and I hoped that Zevran was not too close to his mark.

'Not yet,' Paedan conceded as Gorim began to walk again, this time towards Sten, nug-tied as he was. He stood behind the Qunari and looked back at Paedan.

'Well carry on,' he issued the order as if his direction was the most obvious thing in the world. If I wasn't trying to mend my broken heart, despite my little fall back this afternoon, I would have fallen in love with my Second all over again, but at that moment I could only focus on Alistair and getting him out of here.

Paedan cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his captive.

'I will ask you this one more time, and then I'm going to start cutting your fingers off, rather than just removing the nails. Where is she?'

'Here!' I cried, striking the man, who was supposed to be watching Morrigan and Wynne, straight in the throat with my dagger. Before he hit the floor the two women were on their feet ripping the bags from their heads, their hands cut free by Leliana and I. Gorim quickly worked on cutting Sten free as Zevran's invisible form slit Paedan's throat, before diving over Alistair, between the two giants holding him down, to the window. He smashed the latch off it and threw it up, jumping out the way in time as Bert jumped through, landing on one of the giants and ripping his throat out as they tumbled to the ground.

As I turned from my fight with another attacker, who it transpired knew a templar trick or two and had drained whatever mana reserve the two mages had after their initial attack, Leliana who had been wrestling the other Qunari and finally bested him shouted at me to watch out as the salt woman threw her own blades towards me. Gorim, ever the formidable warrior, had seen the move before the bard and had leapt towards me, his shield raised high. The blade deflected and before she had a chance to toss another at me, Alistair, his face battered and bruised and his chest a mar of the same slices that adorned his back, had her by the throat.

'If I hadn't been raised a gentleman,' he growled into her ear as he stood behind her, hand on her neck, the other holding her arm that still held her second blade. 'I would knock you on your arse. However, seeing as there are more than plenty of women here who would love the chance, I'll leave it up to them.' He squeezed her wrist tightly until she dropped the blade before he threw her towards the centre of the room.

It was Morrigan who surprised me. She walked straight up to the woman and with clenched fist punched her square in the face, sending the scrawny cow to the floor, out cold.

When we were satisfied that we had been triumphant, I turned glaring around the room, looking for someone in particular. 'Where is Sanga?' I asked.

o-O-o

Although I knew his muscles ached from being tied up for over an hour, we were told, Sten aided Alistair in walking back to the apartment. I had my arm around Gorim's waist as I helped him to walk. When he had lunged to protect me from the rogue's blade, he had landed awkwardly on his bad leg and troubled it again. Zevran and Leliana followed us, carrying Gorim's and Alistair's breastplates, respectively.

The man I had fought had drained the two mages of their mana reserves, and so Alistair was unable to be healed at the scene. He donned his tunic, but the still weeping wounds on his back where showing through the pale fabric and my eyes had become transfixed on them.

_He was willing to die to protect me. _

The thought was still strange to me. I knew that he cared for me, he had confessed it, and I... cared for him too – I shivered as the thoughts I had indulged when I met him at Ostagar flittered through my mind.

_You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?_

Words spoken by Wynne some time ago flittered through my mind. He had been willing to sacrifice the others in order to protect me, just as I had been to protect him. But I had done so in order to save a greater number, a land full of people, right? That was all he was doing too, wasn't it?

Gorim's hand tightened on my waist and I realised, with slight guilt, that I had lost myself in my thoughts as we had walked.

'You! You!' A knight, out of his armour, but wearing the colours of Gwaren was calling to me, trying to get my attention. I frowned at him, as I handed my charge over to Sten who was more than capable of helping the two men stand.

'I'm sorry, do I know you?' I asked the Knight politely, stepping to him, trying to hide my disgust at his loyalty to Loghain. 'I don't recognise you.'

'_I_ recognise _you_,' he stated. 'From Ostagar. Andraste's blood, you're a Grey Warden! Duncan's apprentice!' Alistair made a strangled sound behind me and I knew the sentiment. Trouble was starting to brew; it was definitely time to leave the city – as soon as Alistair was well enough to.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' I tried, bowing to the man, trying to leave quickly.

I turned back to Gorim to take his weight again when the man continued; 'You killed my friend... and good King Cailan,' he had the audacity to declare, stating Cailan's name as a mere afterthought. Gorim's eyes widened as he saw me stiffen at the accusation. 'I demand satisfaction, Ser, for your treason against him.'

'Don't, My-' but it was too late for Gorim's warnings, my blades were unsheathed and buried in the Knight's unprotected stomach in one fluid move. A startled gasp from my companions and the Knight were the only sounds I could hear, regardless of the bustle that was going on around us, as people made their way home for the evening.

'_I_ did not kill Cailan,' I sneered up at the tall Knight who stared down at me with large, disbelieving eyes. How could one so little kill _him_? 'He was my friend, a man of honour and standing to me, unlike your Teyrn who left the field whilst _my _brothers stood with _your_ king.' I twisted my blades as I spoke, watching with some bitter satisfaction as he coughed and spat blood into his beard.

'_Your_ king,' I repeated, feeling his body tremor as his knees tried to give way. 'For the Grey Wardens bow to no man, we serve only to stop the Darkspawn from taking these lands. Remember that as you meet _your_ King, the man you swore oaths to protect, wherever it is you go after this life; for you and your men killed him when you followed Loghain and turned your back on the battle. Oh and tell him that Nyra sends her affections.' And, with all my strength, I ripped my blades through him, opening his stomach in a spray of blood and guts, letting it shower me without flinching; a baptism of some small justice for my friend.

The Knight's body fell to the floor, only his spine and the skin of his back holding him together. I turned to my companions who all stared at me in horror as I dripped with the blood of the man who lay at my feet. All except Zevran who's gaze was fixed far down the road we had been walking, his mouth a grim line. Alistair looked at me with revulsion, but there was something else within his eyes...

Without a word I sheathed my blades and slipped my arm back around Gorim's waist who, unlike the others, didn't bat an eyelid at my actions, for they were the way of my people, and started back towards his home.

o-O-o

'Do you want me to write that?' Lowena asked, her spoon halted half way to her mouth, startled by the confession the Commander made. Nyra simply nodded as she held out the spare bread roll to her husband who readily took it from her.

'No one really mourned his loss; we found out later he was consistently abusing his squires in more ways than one.'

'Bastard,' Alistair hissed, spraying some of his roll over the table they sat around in the bowels of the Warden Compound.

'In actual fact,' Nyra continued, swallowing her soup before speaking. 'He was also trying to leave Denerim before the City Watch got him for... you know, I never thought to check what he was wanted for at that time...' The Warden shrugged, but the scholar saw that she knew more than she was willing to say. 'He probably thought if he could bring us to the City Watch, whatever he was wanted for would simply disappear.'

Scribbling a hasty note down, she dipped her favourite quill, retrieved by the servants at Alistair's behest, into her ink well and bade them to continue.

* * *

_I hope that you're still enjoying the tale and will continue to be patient. I knew that I was undertaking a lot of work when I applied for my teacher training, I just didn't realise it would be so much! Anyway, enough of my complaints - hope that you enjoyed this chapter and hope to have the next installment up before Christmas!_


	24. Chapter XXIV: Aftermath

Chapter Twenty-Four – Aftermath

'You mistake my intent, old cat,' Morrigan hissed at Wynne, clutching her vials to her chest in outrage at something the older mage had said. They had appeared to have reached a professional understanding as regards to magic and healing, and had begun preparations for the poultices and potions that Alistair would need to begin healing that night. Wynne knew very little of the craft, but Morrigan had been skilfully prepared in the art by her mother as she had grown. However, something Wynne said had upset the raven-haired witch and caused an end to their short cease-fire.

'Cutting out their tongues is not _only_ to stop them casting,' Sten muttered as he walked by, taking the last of the hot water to the room I shared with Alistair to pour into the metal-cast bath Leliana and Zevran had dragged from the parlour.

I stood quietly in the corner watching the pair, the rage that had welled up in me earlier still not spent, and I was having my own inner war not to knock together the heads of the two bickering women in front of me. Gorim, Leliana and Zevran watched quietly, their eyes darting back and forth between them and me, having spent enough time with me to know that I was about to burst.

And I did.

'Will the two of you shut up before I shut you up permanently!' I screamed at them, pulling my blade from its scabbard to show them I was serious. The two stared at me, their anger at one another still clear in their eyes, but both knew better than to retort when they took in the sight of me. 'Do you think that you two can just carry on as if today never happened? As if you all didn't very nearly get Alistair _killed_?'

Morrigan's eyes flashed with something and I turned on her instantly. 'Was this your idea?' I demanded. 'Did you bully him into looking for them? Did you use your barbs to goad him into acting in such a reckless manner?'

'As small as it may be, he does have has his own mind,' she sniffed, folding her arms across her chest and looking down her nose at me as she waited to see what else I could throw at her.

A short derisive laugh fell from my lips; 'Alistair doesn't make decisions, he follows everyone around hoping they'll make them for him. He's proven that time and again by leaving me to lead this stupid-'

'Apparently he can.' Alistair's voice, raw from his cries of agony that day, spoke up from the parlour doorway. 'Leave them out of it; if anyone is to blame, it's me.' His gaze lingered on me for a moment to show that he spoke the truth before his head dipped and the floor became his focus.

I bit down on my lip hard, the sharp sting and taste of copper told me I had bitten through it as I held back the tirade of abuse that held the words idiot, worthless and incompetent.

'Perhaps,' Zevran's silky voice spoke up. 'You two should go and have this discussion elsewhere, Grey Warden to Grey Warden.' My eyes snapped on him for a moment before darting back to Alistair, whose shoulders slumped at the thought of being left alone with me.

'You're right.' My voice was tight as I held myself together. 'Bring those when they're ready.' I indicated to the vials in Morrigan's arms, whilst Alistair turned and marched back to our room. I felt the ache in my head start to become a heavy beat; it was only a matter of time before it became a full pound.

'Just make sure he doesn't need them for any _new_ injuries, _cara_,' Zevran called after me.

o-O-o

I had my hand on the door handle to our room when Gorim limped into the hallway and called out to me. 'What?' I snapped, my head turning sharply to face him.

'May I speak freely?'

'Make it quick.' It was as if we were in the belly of the Roads and I was trying to quickly deal with a renegade platoon before they got the entire battalion killed.

'He did wrong; I know it, you know it, and he _definitely_ knows it.' I made a short _humph_ sound, as if I wasn't so sure of the last part, and he gave me a warning look, heeding me to listen to his words; he was the only one who had ever been able to calm my rage when it flowed in full force. 'He's still a boy, Commander.'

'He's a trained _warrior_, Gorim; his skills can, at times, overshadow yours,' I informed him as I approached where he stood; his eyes were trained on mine, keeping my focus on him. 'He's spent his life in the Chantry's army, he has lived and breathed a military life just as we have-'

'No, Commander, _not_ as we have.' We stood only a footstep a part, our shoulders square, neither of us giving an inch as he spoke. 'They do not train to fight _Darkspawn_ from birth; they are not trained to fight the moment they can hold up a practice sword. They squire, they learn, they _practice_. Alistair was trained in combat, fighting in training rings against other _Templars_ in case whatever Chantry he ended up at was called to aid a noble's own troops, but his real call was to hunt and eliminate _Magi_. He wasn't trained for _this, _Commander, not as we were.'

'He is a _Grey Warden_ and Duncan-'

'Six months he was with them. Straight from the Denerim Cathedral to Warden Compound, trained for three months before heading to Ostagar as Duncan came to Orzammar,' his voice was raised as he spoke over me; it was almost as if he was angry at my belief in Alistair's abilities. I frowned; how did he know this about my fellow Warden; I certainly had never told him.

'How do you know all this?' I demanded hotly. 'And how did you know where he had gone this afternoon?'

'Alistair has kept in touch with me,' he simply stated, unperturbed by my questions. 'He has come to me for advice, for help as he didn't know who else he could ask.'

'He could have asked me,' I shot, the beat in my head only a breath from the pounding I knew it was desperate to become.

'_When_, Commander? You weren't there – you spoke only of coin to him before-'

'If we-'

'I understand that in order to proceed you needed coin, and quick. I do not hold it against you that you went with the _elf_ and the redheaded girl, but you forgot your other duties, _Commander_, like your duty to Alistair.'

'Stop calling me commander!' I shouted into his face – the thump behind my eye caused it to twitch. 'I am _not_ the Commander anymore! You cannot call me that!'

'I can and will, for you will always be _my_ Commander!' he roared back. 'Your army may be smaller, but you still are its leader. Alistair may have been a Warden slightly longer than you, but you understand far better than he does the dangers of not only the Darkspawn, but of people and the politics they play.

'You have _real _military background – you were the sodding High Commander for ancients' sake!' He slammed his hand against the wall in frustration and the reaction caused me to take a step back. We had argued in the past, but – since we had become lovers all those years ago – his frustration had never spilled into shouting or hand slamming and although I understood his behaviour – as I often needed an outlet for my anger – it scared me seeing him like this.

'You had people like me, Hespith and Rhag, all helping you to learn the basics and excel at what natural skills you had so that you could become the Commander that you were – _are_! He's had nothing. He's looking to you to teach him, to help mould him into the warrior and man that he can be...' His words trailed away as he looked at me and in that moment I saw him; I finally saw him without bias clouding my heart, and it made me shudder.

He was older than I had ever seen him, lines already set about his mouth and eyes, nothing unusual for the Dwarva due to the hard lives we lived in the Roads – I was surprised I didn't look ten years older than my twenty and four years already – but it was his eyes and the truth they betrayed in that moment that made me take another step back.

Soft eyes, that's what I knew, eyes that held nothing but warmth when looking at me; eyes that had always told me what I needed to see, before he whispered the words I needed to hear. Even when he was angry, as he was now, they'd still hold that gentleness when upon me. Indeed they still held that gaze, but there was something more, something I was finally seeing. Under the warmth, hidden within his dark orbs were a thousand calculations; calculations of what _I_ wanted to see or hear from him, not what move I should make to overthrow a competitor or enemy.

For the first time in my life, I questioned him. Oh, not like I had after I had found his sword; no this was more than questioning his supposed affections for me, this was questioning his entire being. I couldn't explain it, but it was suddenly like I was looking at a different person. Had that calculation always been there? Had he been plotting for my benefit or his? Had everything, every action and word been calculated to win my trust and then eventually my heart?

Had I been played?

Fears I had thrown at him when I found out about Aeri came hurtling to the forefront of my mind again. Had he been simply a fortune hunter? Had I been a way for his family to elevate their status?

'Tame that temper of yours,' his voice returned to the soothing and gentle tone I was used to when we were in private. 'Go and speak to him; he's your loyalist ally in your little troop. Whatever you do, _don't_ push him away.'

His words caused me to turn to the door that led to the room I shared with my fellow Warden. Alistair stood within its frame now, his chest bare and his bloody injuries clear for all to see. I caught my lip again at the sight of the dark welts and bloody gashes that marred his otherwise smooth and perfect chest.

_Probably checking out who's finally taking me down a peg or two,_ I thought morosely.

'Everything okay, Nyra?' he asked, his own whisky coloured orbs set upon my former Second, his brows knitted together in a mirror image of how my own had been but a moment ago. His jaw was clenched as he stared, his shoulder twitched and I noted that the tension that was radiating from him was not aimed at me, but towards the man who had raised his voice at me. He hadn't come to see my fall from grace, instead, after belittling him to the others of the group, he had come ready to defend me, to ensure that I came to no harm.

I held my gaze upon him, searching for _his_ eyes. They had varied wildly since I had met him; his emotions worn on his sleeve meant I could gauge his feelings and reactions to situations almost instantly. Right now, as he glared at Gorim, his eyes were showing the truth of the words he had spoken earlier; that he was willing to die for me.

Many men had made that promise; the Princess' life was far greater than any of theirs. Their oaths made upon their entry into my father's armies, declared in front of the Paragons, the Ancestors and the Stone. Gorim had taken that oath when I was just fourteen, before he knew who I was underneath. Alistair had never uttered such a phrase and yet…

And yet he was still willing to die for… _me._ Not the Princess, not _The Lady Aeducan_. He was willing to die for Nyra, and _only _Nyra. With his body battered and bruised, he was still willing to stand beside me, to fight _with_ me, _for_ me, protect and defend me, as only a …friend could… would.

'Nyra?' Alistair stepped out of our room, towards us; his one step put him almost at my side and a sudden, unexpected lump formed in my throat.

'Everything's fine, Alistair,' my voice was far huskier than I would have liked, and I quickly cleared it. 'Why don't you go back inside, rest for a moment before I come and tend you.'

A flutter of movement caught my eye from over my other shoulder and I turned to see Morrigan standing in the doorway of the parlour, holding various pots and jars filled with freshly created salves and lotions for Alistair's care. Her gaze slid from Gorim to Alistair and then finally to me. I nodded at the witch who stepped past us and entered the room, and I turned back to my fellow Warden who still hadn't taken his sight from my former Second. Careful of the bruising he had, I gently placed my hand upon his forearm, my thumb caressing his skin lightly.

'Nyra, I-' Alistair's words stopped in his throat as he finally took his eyes from Gorim and turned them to me.

'Go on, I'll be along in a moment.'

He turned his gaze back towards my former Second briefly, his eyes flickering with some silent communication, conveying to Gorim that if he laid a hand upon me, he'd have a very pissed off Templar to deal with. When Gorim nodded he turned back to me, holding my eyes for a moment as if searching for something. I had hidden so much for so long – fearful that should anyone see weaknesses within me it would be my family's downfall – that I had no idea how to convey that I would be safe. Biting my lip, I simply nodded slowly that I would be okay.

'Very well,' he commented before taking a step back and turning, retreating back into our room just as Morrigan exited. He closed the door over, but did not allow it to shut completely. I stared at the sliver of light for a moment deep in thought, nibbling, still, at my lower lip.

'Perhaps…' Gorim's voice brought my attention back to him. 'Perhaps I was mistaken.' His eyes travelled my face before he finally nodded in assessment to some hidden thought. 'Perhaps you have taught him about being a man without realising it.'

I frowned as he bowed to me, returning it with only the dip of my head.

'Farewell… Nyra,' his voice caressed my name, one he had been forbidden to use for so long. 'I pray the Ancestors watch over you… over _all _of you.'

I watched him retreat down the narrow corridor; he looked back only once as he opened the door and stepped through it into the cold night air.

'Well,' Morrigan's clipped tone interrupted my gazing at the door that was now shut behind him. 'Like I have said repeatedly; men _are_ replaceable.' Her gaze lingered on the door to mine and Alistair's room, before she returned to the parlour, leaving me to stare at the closed door for a moment longer before I turned to the one that stood open for me to enter.

o-O-o

Alistair sat forlornly in the metal bath as I entered, his blond head dipped to avoid my gaze and hiding his bruised, swollen eye and split lip. His chest and back were ravaged by the deep ugly gashes inflicted upon him by the man called Paedan. I tried to count the lesions, but they blurred into one as tears of anger and hatred burned my eyes for the man who had done this to my fellow Warden.

Killing the bastard once had not been enough.

I blinked to refocus my attention back to his saddened features. This was a man of superb physical strength with an amount of stamina I had never seen the likes of before – and didn't that give me improper thoughts! – and yet the disappointment of one person whom he held in high esteem could fell him like a mallet in his un-armoured gut. What had happened to this man to have knocked his confidence and belief in himself so much that he felt he was inadequate in every way?

Taking a deep breath, I picked up the wash rag and then smiled slightly as I noted that he'd had the foresight to drape a towel across the tub to keep his modesty. I knelt at his side, dipping the rag in the water and began to clean the wounds along his back; I could see, with every gentle press of the cloth, how he wanted to wince but did not allow himself to. When I found this Arl Howe, the man who had sanctioned this action, I was going to ensure that he suffered just as Alistair had – more so, as I wanted him to be on the edge of death from what I was going to do to him before I plunged my dagger into his heart.

I finished cleaning his back of the blood and salt embedded in the wounds and shuffled around the tub to tend to his front. 'How did you do it?' I gazed up at him through my fringe before I began the process again, but he still refused to look at me, his face turned towards the fire instead. When he spoke, his voice was miserable.

'I saw posters and we were hearing-'

'No,' I interrupted him, finally dipping the wash rag back into the water, my focus back upon my task. 'We'll talk about that when I've finished. I meant, how did you not cry out when he hit you with that… thing?' I let my fingertips dance over one of the cuts on his chest, but snatched my hand back as he winced slightly, as if my touch could hurt him far more than Paedan's.

'Sorry,' I muttered, my voice holding an edge of hurt and disappointment to it at his reaction, but I knew it was my own damn fault for my earlier words in the parlour. I wet the cloth and began to clear the wounds along his shoulders.

'The _thing_ he hit me with was a riding crop, it hurts a lot less than the contraption the Revered Mother used.'

'A riding crop?' I knew that was something they used on their horses – there was no way they had horses in that area; there was barely room for people to walk the narrow cobbled streets. 'What would a riding crop be doing in a whorehouse?' I wondered aloud. A chuckle slipped from his lips and his answer was to simply 'ask Zevran', leaving me even more confused.

'What do you mean… about the Revered Mother? Did she hit you?' I paused again in my task to gaze at him.

'Hit me? The woman was a maniac with that whip.' He finally slid his gaze to me, a slight worry about his mouth before he sighed. 'I brought most of it on myself, of course. No, no,' he stopped me from speaking up in his defence. 'I _really _did. You know, I was only saying to Leliana the other evening that it would get so quiet at the monastery that I would start screaming until one of the brothers came running.'

'Why?'

He shrugged, but there was a small smile on his split lip. 'I would tell them that I was just checking. The look on their faces was always priceless.'

'But you got dragged to the Revered Mother?' He nodded. 'Masochist.'

'What's that?'

'Ask Zevran,' I replied, a sly smile on my lips.

'Er, no. I don't think I will.' But I could see the curiosity in his eyes. I _really_ wanted to be there when that topic came up.

'So they'd whip you and you just… got used to it?' I asked looking back to his chest and began to gently wash his wounds again, ensuring that there would be no salt traces left. He sighed and leaned back as much as he could to allow me better access. I forced away the thoughts that quickly came unbidden to my mind as I watched his strong arms flex down the sides of the tub, holding his position so that his back didn't rest upon the metal behind him.

'She'd whip my back raw and then have the healer fix me up, no rejuvenation though, only a simple heal. She wanted me to feel the pain afterwards. Once the healer had closed... these things,' he shifted, his muscles rippling as he held his weight with one arm as he waved his other hand in front of his chest, 'she'd go again.'

'_Again_?' I openly stared at him. His left eye was swollen shut, but his right, the colour intensified by the flickering flames, met mine and I felt my breath catch. 'How many times?' I whispered.

He shrugged, 'Four, sometimes five bouts... I realised that the more I cried out, the more she enjoyed it. When I learnt to control my reactions, to close myself off to the pain, she got frustrated. I got more lashes, but I gained some small satisfaction at seeing her getting worked up.'

'I was right – masochist.' He really looked curious now and I had to stop myself from smirking as I imagined him trying to approach Zevran, casually, to ask such a question. 'But the salt-'

'I admit that one was new and unexpected.'

We fell back into silence, as I gently pressed each slice clean with the wet rag and then reached for his face. With his good eye fixed to mine, he finally allowed me to turn his face to mine, allowing me to see the extent of the damage to his eye. It was severe enough that it would take a week, at least, for him to be able to open it again.

'Oh, Alistair,' I breathed as I gently traced his brow with my finger tips, following it around to trail down to his jaw. I heard him inhale sharply, his damp, bare chest expanding, as his eye dropped from mine to my lips and I found myself licking them without forethought. 'Wy-Wynne should have recouped enough energy by the morning to fix this at least,' I murmured, my own eyes upon his mouth, noting the slice splitting it dead centre. 'Hopefully the rest of you too.'

'I don't deserve her help; I almost got her – all of them – killed.' He pulled his head out of my grasp and I felt something within myself cry out at the loss of his gaze upon me. But instead of showing my reaction I said nothing as I stood and turned back to the bed and looked through the jars and bottles Morrigan had left for us.

I heard him pulling himself out of the tub and drying off; I waited until he had pulled his sleeping britches on before I turned back to him. He sat on his bed, staring at the water that had turned pink and I knew that he was punishing himself far more than any words I could utter.

I climbed up onto the bed behind him and began to apply the soothing balms, helping to numb the areas before I applied the healing elixirs. A number of old, thin silver scars could be seen mixed with the new injuries he wore. I thought back to the night that he had confessed how he got these – the Highever Crest – and frowned; that night felt so long ago – everything before we came to Denerim did, before all the hopes that I had left in the world had been dashed.

I had always been certain of Gorim's feelings for me, I had never doubted his words or his devotion to me... so how had I ended up without him? Without the man who I had thought would have died at my side?

_I'd rather _die_ than give her over to you. _

My hand trembled slightly. Since the night at the camp outside of the city, I had tried to keep my distance from Alistair. I had selfishly tried to use him that night, had tried to use the delicate feelings he had for me; feelings that confused me as much as they confused him. When I had first met Alistair, back at Ostagar, I had thought him beyond handsome, Zevran had called him a god and I had to agree; if I had to imagine any greater being, a body such as Alistair's would probably be what I pictured. But it was his sense of humour, his goofy grin that he'd offer me when he was trying to push his luck, his gentleness when he patched me up, and the genuine care that resided in his warm whisky eyes that had made me care for him too.

And that was the problem. I cared for him… and it was no longer simply as a friend.

I had since... not when we first met, but shortly afterwards; our time in the Korcari Wilds starting an unlikely friendship between us. It had slowly blossomed since then; waking to his warm caring eyes after terrifying nightmares, seeing his desires and feelings in the Fade, his bashful confession of caring for me afterwards, his tender gift of the simple, yet beautiful rose, and his guardianship over me when I had fallen ill, going against his beliefs in dark magic to ensure that I lived. I had known long before I had found Gorim's sword that Alistair was someone who could sway my heart if I allowed him to.

And then I had tried to use him.

'Nyra?' I blinked as my eyes refocused on his injured back. _This_ wasn't his fault, it was mine. If I'd had more respect for him, for myself, I wouldn't have gone off with Zevran and Leliana to learn the ways of assassination, of subterfuge and deceit. I had been a coward, running off to play in the shadows; avoiding him rather than facing up to the weakness he was bringing about in me.

The night he had approached me after I had dyed Zevran's hair had almost broken my resolve to stay away from him, when he had looked at me with his understanding eyes, eyes that begged me to trust him, to believe his words when he told me that I was still who I always was regardless of what anyone else said. I had wanted him to reach out to me, to kiss me, to make me feel something other than the anger and sheer hopelessness that I had felt since I had discovered Gorim's situation. But when he had moved towards me I had slapped him away, afraid that if I did let him hold me, if his lips touched mine, I wouldn't stop, and although I wanted his touch, I couldn't be clear of the intentions of my heart. I didn't want to use him, hurt him. I had to move on from Gorim before I could give my heart away and Alistair wanted my heart, not my body. But how did one move on? And how did one know when one had?

'Nyra?' He turned his head to look at me with his good eye. 'Are you okay?'

'I'm sorry,' I said meekly, continuing with applying the balm. 'Why did you go looking for them? The groups? How did you even find them?'

With deep regret in his voice he told me how they had seen ragged poster remnants on walls around the city, just as we had. They had started to ask questions; he, Morrigan and Wynne had started to approach guards in a way that surprised me.

'She _flirted_?' I asked, unsure if I was surprised or horrified by the thought of Morrigan trying to flirt with a man.

'I know, but it was like she was a completely different person – like she was actually _human_.' I snorted in amusement.

'The two of you must have worked well together though – neither of you are dead,' I commented.

'Not _really..._' I saw a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks and raised my brows in surprise. 'At first she was being really nice to me, helping by prettying herself up and flirting with the guards. But then Wynne started questioning why she was doing this when all we've done is fight since we left the tower-'

'Since we met her.'

'Definitely,' he nodded. 'And so I asked her. Worst. Mistake. Ever.'

'Idiot.'

'Indeed. After you did that thing with Zevran's hair she went all hostile again.' He continued on in his tale of how they had eventually discovered that _The Pearl_ was being used for the most recent meeting of the groups. When he had finished, I explained how I had known he was in trouble and how we had found him.

'I admit, I thought I recognised the voice, but it wasn't until Gorim bent down in front of me that I realised what was happening.'

'Did you mean it?' I asked looking up at him through my fringe as I knelt between his legs applying the balm to his chest. 'When you said that you'd rather die them let them have me.'

'You heard that?' I nodded and he sighed and tried to stop himself from turning pink again. 'Yes. No one has ever been a friend to me the way you have. I would die for you if necessary.' I carried on applying the healing elixir to a particularly brutal wound as I pondered his words.

'These will scar,' I told him as I finished the last gash across his stomach. 'But you should wear them proudly.' I ran my fingers, delicately, along the one that crossed his heart. 'Each one of these marks shows your dedication and commitment to… our cause and your belief in what we're doing. You continuously say you cannot lead, and yet what you did today shows the strength and courage that a great leader requires. You refused to give them what they wanted, you protected me… and therefore our cause and _that _is all you need to do to lead. Protect us, fight for us and believe in yourself and you will be a great leader, as much as you are already a great man.'

My hand pressed against his heart, I turned my face up to Alistair and allowed my eyes the freedom to look upon him honestly. He had treated me with respect and kindness, with friendship and openness. He had asked for nothing in return, but would be willing to accept my heart if I could give it.

He offered me a tender smile that pulled at the split in his lip slightly, causing my eyes to drift to it. How many times had he looked at me with eyes filled with desire, his lips slightly moist as he leaned towards me...? How many times had he tried to kiss me? Two? Three? More? I took a breath as my heart beat against my chest as memories of him leaning in to capture my lips flashed through my mind.

'_I_ will treasure each of these marks, Alistair,' I finally confessed in a voice that I feared betrayed the sudden fluttering within my chest. I watched him blink in disbelief at my words and I felt my cheeks warm as his own flushed bright red. 'I will treasure them for reasons that you cannot understand at the moment because I'm not yet ready to share, but I hope that one day I will_._' I took a shaking breath as I stood up and licked my suddenly dry lips.

'Thank you,' I whispered as I quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek, standing upright before he had a chance to register, let alone react, to what I had just done. I turned quickly, hiding a blushing smile as his hand reach up and touch his cheek, his face staring at me with a dumfounded expression upon it, as I began my own preparations to turn in for the night.

As we blew out the light, I realised that this was the first night since we had arrived in Denerim that I had retired with Alistair, and the first in the recent few where I had slumbered in the same room at all. As my mind drifted into the quiet darkness that sleep promised; I briefly wondered if that's why sleep came so easily to me that night.

o-O-o

The doors at the end of the room opened and a rowdy group of fifty-six hungry Grey Wardens poured in causing Lowena's quill to jump across the page. Nyra sighed as she watched the junior members fell onto the benches at the far end of the room quickly diving into the pans of stew that were waiting for them. The more senior Wardens moved quickly up the room, scraping chairs against the floor as they sat, a little more reserved than the juniors, and began tucking in.

It was one thing that confused Nyra – the appetite that some of the Wardens got after their recruitment. Not all experienced the constant hunger that Alistair had described to her when they had first been getting to know one another as they trekked across the Korcari Wilds and then onwards towards the Circle of Magi, but a vast majority did. It was more apparent when the Darkspawn threat was near, and here in Orzammar, where the threat was ever present, most Wardens suffered the ravenous hunger that she knew her husband to have. The only exceptions were Warden's from the Dwarva; those that came from Orzammar, or the other cities now open under the surface, never faced the hunger that the humans and elves experienced.

'I think our time is up,' Alistair said, looking behind Lowena to where Justine and Grigeson had entered. 'There's a lot of Warden business to be discussed tonight.' Lowena nodded her understanding as Nyra and Alistair stood. Although she had been with the Grey Wardens for years, Grey Warden matters were restricted to Grey Wardens. Not even the professor had insight into the goings on within the Order.

The scholar pushed her chair back and dipped her head to the Commander and her husband, both returning her bid farewell, and left the table to head down to her guest suit within the compound, sure that the servants would bring her food up now that the Wardens were in the mess hall.

She had a lot to mull over; their time in Denerim was vague, incomplete and highly frustrating! She didn't mind the lack of information over their activities, it was the fact that Nyra seemed to be wallowing in self pity when she had this… _perfect_ man sitting right there, desperate for her! She didn't deserve him, the scholar decided as she undressed, changing into her night robe before ringing the bell to signify to the servants she wanted her meal.

_He sacrificed his beliefs by dabbling in bloody magics, he followed your every order, faced your ex-lover to help heal your heart, and was willing to _die_ for you and you were still unable to accept him?_ The scholar shook her head in bewilderment. _What _did_ he have to do to win your heart, Commander?_

* * *

_This story has not been abandoned; nor shall it ever! Even if it takes me another 2 years to finish it, I promise here and now that I bloody well will. Having come from the HP fandom, I have known writers of some of the best HP stories takig 6 years to finish their epic 80 chapter tales, and I have cheered the on throughout, so I do hope that you persever with me and I promise to try and not let it get that long.  
_

_Chapter 24 and 25 were originally completely different chapters, with the group back out on the road originally, but Jo pointed out that my writing came across as forced and to be honest it was, hence the rewrite and the ridiculously long wait you have had to go through. My apologises. So this is the more comfortably written 24, and 25 is so close to being finsihed now! Hopefull I'll get up to chapter 30 by the end of the year.  
_

_Again I apologise for the delays in getting chapters sorted; unfortunately as a trainee teacher my time was limited, as a newly qualified teacher my time will still be limited, but hopefully not as much as a trainee, so they should start getting more regular. Like I said, I hope to get to 30 before New Year. Each review and new 'add/favourite/alert' really does encourage me; so thank you for the support.  
_

_Hopefully, this update will make it's way through the Olympic absence that the internet has seen!  
_


	25. Chapter XXV: Breakfast

Chapter Twenty-Five - Breakfast

'…And furthermore, the Assembly has taken into account that your husband, another Grey Warden, will second you, as always,' the Deshyr read from the scroll, delivering news that Nyra expected after all the negotiations – her nephew was so predictable. 'As we all know of the Grey Wardens' formidable strength and agility, the Assembly grants Lord Endrin Aeducan-' She smirked as she heard her nephew growl at the title, another sore point between them, 'the concession that no additional Wardens may be part of your retinue.'

Nyra simply raised her eyebrow at the comment. If Endrin thought that this was going to cause her an issue, he truly had not studied her.

'Noble Assembly,' her speech was as refined as it had been the first time she had been presented to the parliament by her father decades before. 'I accept those terms for the proving, they are fair and understandable. However, in order to fulfil them, I request a short grace period to organise my team: twenty days.'

'_No!_' Endrin stood quickly and Nyra turned to face him, her face impassive. 'She has been here for four weeks already and all we have done is agreed that I have the right to challenge her and – _finally_ – lain out the terms. This should have been over by now! Do you not have the courage to face me?' he demanded as he turned to confront her.

'Nephew, I have no problem in facing _you_ – as has been proven in the past, I am more than accomplished to tackle you one to one – it is you who has requested a group challenge. I have agreed to this... _highly_ unusual request and as it is so rare in matters of honour to face one another as a group, I am merely requesting some time for my team to arrive.'

'Arrive?' another Deshyr asked.

Nyra nodded. 'I cannot have my Grey Wardens, nor can we choose our companions from our own house, and as I do not reside within Orzammar – as much as it breaks my heart – I do not know who could fight as my brother or sister would next to me.' _Not that I'd want a brother of mine fighting next to me_, she added silently as she looked towards Endrin, thinking of his father. 'Therefore, I must seek assistance from those outside of the jewel of our people. Twenty days should be long enough for me to send note, have them arrive and train before the event.'

A murmur went through the hall as the nobles quickly discussed the matter, and just as she knew they would-

'The Paragon's request as been granted. Twenty days, no more. If your chosen team is not within Orzammar by that time, the Assembly shall choose it for you.'

With a genuine smile upon her lips, Nyra bowed to those gathered, turned and left.

o-O-o

'Take this letter, William,' Nyra handed the scroll to the young man. 'Ensure that it arrives at the Peak in all haste – it is imperative that you hurry them. They must be here no later than ten days from today.' The young Warden nodded, tucked the scroll into his chest piece and, with a final bow to his Commander, turned and left the compound, and thus the city in a hurry.

'Don't worry,' Alistair's deep, warm voice rumbled behind her as he dipped his head and kissed her neck, 'they'll be here quicker than you think.'

'Alistair if they-'

The knock at the door stopped the words on her lips, her brow furrowing. Alistair stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, as Justine opened it.

'Lowena?' they heard the Head-Warden's surprised voice greet the scholar, before turning in question to the couple on the other side of the room. Nyra groaned, she'd forgotten she'd granted the girl an hour of their time that morning. Sighing she motioned for the Warden to allow the girl entrance.

'I'm afraid that we are really limited on time this morning,' Nyra spoke over the girl as she made to greet them. 'And I'm afraid that I am unable to spare any at all, so Alistair will take you through the next part.'

Alistair cordially bowed to her and then gestured to the seating area near the door as Justine and Greigson gathered the papers they had been perusing and moved towards the desk Nyra commanded.

The girl beamed at him as she took a seat and pulled a sheet of parchment and her favourite quill from the bag she had taken to carrying since her near death experience.

'So,' she chirped happily. 'Where do we continue from? The Brecilian Forest? Dragon's Peak? Oh! Perhaps something happened in South Reach?'

Alistair grinned, 'Something did happen in South Reach, but we'll get to that eventually. No we simply continue from breakfast the next morning…'

o-O-o

As Alistair and Nyra stepped from their room – finally ready to face the day now that Wynne had healed his face – the scent wafting from the parlour made his mouth water and sent him hurtling back in time to when he was a small boy raising hell in Arl Eamon's kitchens. Isodel had friends from Orlais staying at the castle and was ordering all sorts of delicious things to be cooked. The chef grumbled as time after time his creations were returned, deemed as unacceptable to the Arlessa, but to Alistair's grubby little hands and greedy mouth they were perfect. His stomach rumbled, jarring him from his thoughts and Nyra gazed up at him, her brows raised.

'Let's get you some of whatever that divine smell is,' she said stepping down the corridor, clearly amused as his face turned a fetching shade of pink. 'Clearly you're on the brink of starvation.'

'Hey, we didn't eat last night, remember,' he said with a half-joking pout.

'And I forgot that if you don't eat every- what in the name of the Ancestors-'

'Surprise!' Zevran, Leliana and Wynne called out, throwing their hands up, out and every which way as the pair stepped into the parlour. Alistair blinked rapidly as he saw the bounty of Orlesian pastries, ripe exotic fruits and a pot full of warm sweetened porridge the threesome was trying to display to them.

He froze in fear, his mouth suddenly dry, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes wandered from the spectacular breakfast bounty over the small group to land on the aging mage. _Why?_ His eyes begged her, and she flushed slightly under his hurt gaze.

Leliana was saying something to him – no, to Nyra who, for some reason, looked furious at the group. She demanded something – he could tell, her hands were balled up into fists on her hips as she glared at them all – but he couldn't hear what they were saying, the sound of his heart thumping in his chest drowned out the noise as his eyes travelled around the room again, this time taking in the Qunari and the witch by the windows.

Morrigan, looking as unruffled and calm as she always did amidst the shouting – which was starting to become more common place, he vaguely thought – strode across the room and shoved something… _fragrant_ under his nose. He blinked, the scent of roses and rain with a hint of grass waking him from his state and forcing him to focus on the witch.

'Here,' she huffed, and her usual calm composure was tainted by her warmed cheeks; clearly uncomfortable in presenting him the little parcel. 'I see not the reason to celebrate another year closer to death, but the others insisted that 'tis a custom amongst _civilised _society,' she explained, dropping the linen wrapped soap in his hands. 'I am sure 'tis more a present to us than you.'

'I did not get you a gift,' the giant said when Alistair's surprised eyes passed over him. 'In my lands when a man comes of age he is given over to his role. You already have yours. I do not understand this custom.'

The room had fallen silent as they watched the exchange with curious eyes, waiting to see his reaction. Nyra, who had stopped shouting at Morrigan's presentation, was instead now staring up at him with something akin to surprise, bewilderment, and complete and utter shock. Her pretty little mouth, which Alistair often found his eyes drawn to, was opening and closing in a rather good imitation of a fish.

'I have a gift!' Leliana breathily exclaimed, clapping excitedly again and acting as if the giant hadn't spoken, and causing Alistair's gaze to refocus upon the meddling threesome who had caused so much mayhem already this morning. _Maker, it's not even the eighth hour!_

'It is only _petit_,' she continued, having caught his eye and pulled him down onto the cushioned bench as she sat and presented him her offering, 'but I hope that you like it.' She thrust the gift, delicately wrapped in red parchment, into his hands.

_Who on earth would dye parchment? _

_Forget the parchment, _another part of him chided. _Why are they giving you gifts? You don't get gifts –ever. You're not good enough for them, no one ever remembers you; why _are_ they_ _remembering you? Drawing attention to you? _

'Oh, Alistair!' the bard cried in exasperation, cutting off his thoughts as she lost her patience and leaned over to assist him. 'Just rip it open! There,' she proclaimed happily as a small carved figurine of a robed woman rolled out of its wrapping. 'It is Andraste – I think. I found it in Lothering only the morning of your arrival; it appears to be very old – I have never seen one like it.

'Do you like it?' she asked hopefully.

_They got you gifts…_ his mind repeated sceptically. _They got you gifts and are celebrating today – they want you to forget, they want you to _enjoy _yourself when she lies cold and dead-_

'Alistair?' the bard forced him to refocus his attention back upon her question. She pouted at him, her red lip pouting provocatively, drawing his eyes and causing a flush to his cheeks as other thoughts began to drift- 'You don't like it.'

'No- Ah, I mean yes, yes I do,' he said turning it around in his hands and examining it, trying to ignore the voice that had kept him company for so long. She had found this in Lothering the day they had arrived… it was so unusual and definitely old as she said; she was giving this to him? Just like that? He hadn't had a gift given to him in years, and never on this day. The only gift he had ever been given was a little miniature golem doll that Arl Eamon had given him when he was small… _really _small. A slight twinge caught his chest as he thought of it lost with the rest of his meagre possessions at Ostagar…

A number of pairs of socks from Wynne was his next gift; _What is it with women and colours? What's wrong with grey? _he wondered, as he held them up tentatively for inspection before they were rudely yanked from his hands and another gift was pushed towards him.

'Zevran…' Nyra's voice from behind his shoulder rumbled with a warning. He had almost forgotten about her, she had retreated behind him when it became clear that he was the focus of the celebration.

'Mine next,' Zevran grinned impishly as he thrust a book under Alistair's nose. Nyra huffed and he imagined her rolling her eyes and turning away in frustration. His stomach suddenly lurched as he took in the deep brown leather-bound volume that had no writing up on it to indicate the book's topic. He glanced up at the assassin and swallowed at the mischievous gleam in his blue eyes. _What _had the elf gotten him that made him grin so? His face flushed tomato red as he opened the cover of the book and was presented with a woman and a man in a _very _complicated, compromising position.

'Oh my…' Wynne exclaimed as she caught a glance at the page.

He stared at the book, blinking rapidly, and yet the provocative image didn't register, instead his mind focused on the laughter that surrounded him from the three conspirators.

_How could they? They know! _his mind snarled. _They know and they make light of it – as if it is nothing! _They were mocking him, mocking the death of _her_, the only woman who had ever loved him…

Morrigan stood from her corner, a frown upon her face as she saw the young man's eyes harden and turn inward, his hands clutching at the book. Nyra was behind him, her hands resting on the back of the bench she leaned over, glaring at the three of them, heavily disappointed with the lot of them and completely unaware of the sudden hard set of Alistair's shoulders, the pulse throbbing in his neck and his knuckles white as he gripped the final straw in his hands.

'Nyra,' she muttered, trying not to draw the Templar-Warden's attention; he held onto too much dislike for her not to become the focus of his unsurprising anger. She had tried to warn the three the night before when Wynne had told them all of the young man's secret, but they had simply shushed her protests and refused to listen and so she left them to it – ensuring that her offering was given first, whilst he still suffered with surprise, with enough of her usual disdain that he wouldn't see it as an act of kindness.

'Nyra,' she tried again, a little louder. The bard was nattering on, loudly, gesturing wildly as she told some kind of story that had the elf looking at her as if he wanted to mount her right here in front of them all like a Mabari on heat.

'Nyra!' she hissed and finally got the dwarf's attention. She pointed at Alistair and then jabbed her finger to the door. If the woman could get him out of here before he blew she might be able to get him to calm down before-

Alistair slammed the book down on the table as he stood up and roared 'Shut up!', his breathing laboured and his eyes screwed shut as his hands clutched at his hair as he tried to get a grip on his anger.

_They shouldn't be doing this,_ the voice within him raged. _They should respect you, but then, _it returned to its usual mocking lilt,_ no one respects you – you don't deserve respect, you deserve to be laughed at and mocked-_

'Alistair,' Nyra's soft voice interrupted the taunting of his inner mind and he found himself surrounded by three pairs of wide eyes all staring up at him as if he had two heads. He stared at the floor, his face ruby red at his actions when all they had been trying to do was-

_Belittle her memory._

'Alistair,' her soft voice called to him again and he turned to see her stepping around the seating, her tiny hand outstretched towards him. He gazed down at it and then back to her grey-blue eyes that looked at him with kindness, no traces of mocking, anger or disappointment at his actions, simply… understanding?

'I should pack these,' he muttered, his hand waving in the general vicinity of the gifts he had been graced with. She merely nodded and dropped her hand to her side.

'I have some things to pack too,' she advised him, her voice softer and warmer than he had ever heard it. 'You carry your… offerings, and I'll grab some food – we can eat while we pack. Don't want to march on an empty stomach do we – not when you're so close to starvation as it is.' She offered him a winning smile and he remembered her joking with him earlier. He shook his head as he blinked at her; the fury he felt at the others was still there – oh he'd be more than happy to challenge the rogues to a sparring session later and ensure he gave each of them a good thrashing – but with just a few words from her it became a simmering anger, rather than a boiling rage.

Nyra watched as he gathered the items up, holding them close to his chest, and stepped to one side allowing him to leave. She frowned as he kept his head ducked as he hurried back the way they had come just minutes before when their tones had been filled with amusement and gentleness after reaching an accord the night prior.

When she heard the door close behind him she turned on the three – on Wynne in particular. 'So, it was meant to be kept to yourself I gather.'

'I confess he did say he didn't want a fuss made when he let it slip that today would be-'

'So, he said "no" and you said "yes"?' The mage opened her mouth, but Nyra was quicker. 'Did you think that perhaps there might be a reason for it? Probably not, you interfering old bronto. I swear,' the dwarven Warden snatched a few pastries and a piece of fruit as she addressed the woman, 'one day that nose of yours is going to get you into a whole heap of trouble – and I'm not going to be _willing_ to get you out of it.'

Turning on her heel, her long, loose white hair swirling around her, Nyra followed Alistair's trail back to their room, shutting the door firmly behind her, giving the others a clear indication that they were not to be disturbed.

o-O-o

The book hit the wall with a satisfying thud; the idol smashed the mirror; the shattering of the glass soothed his rage slightly; the socks sailed harmlessly above Nyra's head hitting the door with no sound before they bounced into her hands.

He hadn't heard her come in, yet she stood leaning against the door, holding the pair of green socks in one hand with a bemused look upon her face. His anger left him immediately. What if he had thrown the book or idol in that direction; what if it had hit _her_ rather than the door?

His cheeks flamed red as he muttered an apology; could he do nothing right? He sat down heavily on the bed and sighed, holding his head in his hands as he tried to gather his thoughts together. How could he have done that, screaming at them like a child throwing a tantrum? Today he became a man; more was expected of him now.

'I came in to apologise,' Nyra said quietly, as she moved towards where he sat. 'I didn't know what today was; I didn't get you anything.'

'I don't want anything,' he murmured into his palms, his eyes still closed as he pressed his fingers into them trying to keep all the anger, the burning resentment towards everyone he had buried deep within himself years ago, at bay. 'I didn't even want today acknowledging.'

'I know.' He heard her sit on her bed and imagined her back pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the end, just a breath from his knees. She'd be watching him with her blue-grey eyes, her eyes laughing at his childish outburst, waiting to-

He heard a page turn, and a small inhalation of breath. A page turned again.

'Oh,' she breathed. Another turn of the page. He frowned. What was she reading? The only books they had were kept primarily by Morrigan, he had the- Oh.

_Oh!_ _No! She isn't..._ he peaked through his fingers. _She is… Maker! Have mercy! _ he prayed as he watched her turn another page of the book that Zevran had gifted him. She sat in the middle of the bed, her legs crossed, nibbling on her lower lip with a look of pure concentration on her face as she turned her head slightly this way and then that way, before finally turning the book upside down.

'Oh my!' Her cheeks turned pink, decorating them daintily; her lip, that had been captured between her teeth was red and swollen and looking utterly kissable to him at that moment. She pulled it back between her teeth as she continued to study the book, leaning more towards it as she tried to see something within the image.

His anger vanished completely with the thought of ripping the book from her hands, grabbing her and pulling her flush against him, informing her that only he was allowed to nibble such a beautiful lip before claiming her mouth as his and showing her exactly what he could do with such a delicacy. He groaned ever so slightly at the thought, feeling his own cheeks warming, and counting himself lucky that he had his head hidden, and even luckier that he was sitting the way he was – he was positive she couldn't see the new state he had gotten himself into; a clear reminder that he was, indeed, a man.

Her eyes flickered towards him, studying him for a moment, before looking back down at the book. To him. Then to the book. He swallowed, wondering if she was trying to picture him doing whatever the image was showing. His trousers grew considerably tighter at the thought of her imagining the two of them entwined intimately. She glanced back to him and then back to the book and then shook her head as if to dismiss whatever thought, or idea, she had been contemplating.

He watched as she gently pushed the book to one side, sighing softly, before he closed his fingers again, hoping that she hadn't caught him spying on her. Her knees knocked against his as she moved to the edge of the bed, sitting opposite him. His breath hitched slightly as he remembered her kneeling before him the night prior; boxed in on either side by his legs, and behind her by her bed. If he hadn't been in so much pain he would never have been able to hide how much he had come to desire her.

'So are you going to tell me what all that was about?'

'Are you going to tell me why you didn't say it was your birth date just a few days ago?' he retorted childishly. He sensed her stiffen, her whole body going rigid, her anger instantly flaring as she was caught unawares.

'Never mind,' he sighed and rubbed his face. 'Gorim said you wouldn't want to celebrate – you no longer have the right to, seeing as you're exiled.' He dropped his hands and finally looked at her. Their faces where mere inches distant, if he reached out… 'Don't worry _I _won't say anything. I might not understand, but I respect your wishes.'

'I see.'

'I don't celebrate this date, haven't since my fifth year when I finally realised that my birth caused my mother's death. How does one turn _that_ into a celebratory event?'

'I see,' she repeated, and then drew that lip into her mouth again as she considered him. His thoughts quickly turned back to grabbing her-

'Stop that,' he hissed irritably, causing her to jump slightly in surprise. 'Sorry,' he muttered.

'Talk to me, Alistair, please.'

'Why?' He frowned at her; why should he when she gave nothing back.

_That's not fair, _his conscious reminded him. _She has; she told you about her hair, about her step-mother… that's something big. _

_Not enough_, he argued back. _I want to know more – everything!_

_Selfish, _his conscious hissed at him. _You hide things, you keep things; lead by example… _

She watched as he warred with himself, as he tried to decide if it was within himself to expose such a raw memory, an emotionally draining one at that, she guessed.

'My birth date celebrations are usually a big deal,' she finally blurted out. 'As… High Commander it became a bit of a public holiday, large celebrations were held throughout the city – a Grand Proving would be hosted and all of Orzammar's finest would participate, fighting for the glory to be named my Champion that year.

'My father consistently hoped that perhaps I would find a suitor amongst the… elite of the city on these occasions, that I would enter into a marriage contract and secure our family's position within the city, but-'

'You're in love with Gorim,' he sounded miserable – he _was _miserable. She held to a man who could not love her in the way she deserved; had never been able to!

'I was.'

'Was?' She bit her lip again at his question. 'Stop that,' he whispered this time, his eyes focused upon her lips. 'You have no idea what you do to me; no idea how you make me feel… how I desire you.'

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, she released her lip and licked it. He groaned and leaned closer, their noses just a fingers breadth apart; he wanted to beg, _plead_ with her to love him, to take him, to teach him things that he could only imagine – what she had just been imaging as she looked at Zevran's damn gift. How many times had they been in this position; at the Peak, the Circle, camp, the side of the road… how many times had the spell been broken before it could be cast.

'Was.' It escaped on a breath, barely audible, but he heard it.

'Nyra,' he breathed; his hand reached out of its own accord and brushed her fringe out of her eyes, tucking her long, loose hair behind her ear and finally, with the slight tilt of his head, closed the distance, capturing her lips with his. She responded immediately, her mouth was warm, the caress of her lips softer than he could have imagined. She moaned against him and his hand tightened in her hair, pulling her closer, his other sliding around her waist to settle at the small of her back. He groaned as she parted her lips beneath his, inviting him to taste, to explore, to plunder.

His tongue tentatively traced her bottom lip; feeling the little dimple she had caused with all her nibbling sent a surge of desire through him. He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue against hers; he wanted more, he needed to touch, to feel, to do… _something_! His body was taunt with frustration and want, the desire to know her on a level he could not yet ascend to, for surely when he knew her that way he would be transported to the heavens.

He left her mouth, trailing kisses from her lips to her jaw; he nipped at her earlobe and smiled against her neck as she gasped his name. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, her small nails digging into his skin beneath his tunic as she tilted her head back to allow him better access to her throat, and when he flicked his tongue over the hollow he found there, she begged him – _begged _him! – for more.

'Alistair,' her voice was husky as she pulled back slightly to see his face; her cheeks were flushed, her lips full and her eyes were glazed with want and need for _him. _He bent his head, inhaling her unique scent of fire and ice, and captured her lips in a bruising kiss, his body moving to join hers on her bed as she pulled him closer, closer until their bodies were flush.

She moved against him, causing him to moan as her hip rubbed against this throbbing-

'Leave them alone, old woman!'

The two of them flew apart; Alistair stood quickly moving towards his sword before he realised that it was Morrigan's voice he had heard… and then considered using it anyway.

'I just want to check he's okay,' came Wynne's tart reply.

Nyra snarled from her bed, her pillow clutched against her body as if she had been caught nude as she glared at the door. 'I'm going to kill the old cow,' she hissed.

He murmured his agreement and his stomach dropped as she turned her gaze to his, her face paling and her eyes widening as she realised what she had just done. With him. In their bedroom. On her bed.

She opened her mouth, but a knock on the door stopped whatever she was going to say to him.

'Alistair,' Wynne's voice called through the wood, followed by Morrigan's growl of irritation. He imagined the witch throwing her hands up before they heard her stomp away down the hall. The door opened a crack as she peered through, a frown on her face before she saw him standing at the foot of his bed. She smiled when she saw him and opened the door further, much to the indignation of Nyra, who was suddenly starring at Zevran's book again, turning the pages very quickly.

'I just wanted to check you were all… packed now?' she asked, her gaze travelling over the room. When they landed on Nyra, sitting on the bed with Zevran's book back in her lap, she frowned again.

'Yes,' Alistair began, his voice an octave higher than usual; he cleared his throat quickly. 'All packed, just about to bring everything down to the entrance.' His grip tightened on his sword, the hilt hiding his rapidly deflating excitement.

'Do you need help? I-'

'No!' Nyra slamming the book shut and jumping up announced haughtily. 'I'm sure the two of us can deal with any packing and carrying better than you're able to.' And to prove her words she grabbed her pack and hauled it over her shoulder. She moved quickly towards the door forcing Wynne to open it wider and step back. The mage shook her head with disappointment as she watched the dwarf storm down the corridor towards the parlour.

'Thanks, Wynne, but I think we have everything.' Alistair stepped past the aging mage with a look of apology etched across his features. She patted his arm and smiled softly up at him, cooing 'Of course,' before she followed him down the hallway.

o-O-o

_She's not going to like this, she is _not _going to like this. _He frowned as he left Gorim and his companion waiting out in the little courtyard that led to their small, soon to be former, lodgings. _Relax, _another voice within him spoke out. _It's not _you_ she's going to scream at. _

'Where's Nyra?' he asked Leliana as the redhead walked passed him on the narrow corridor. 'She's not in the parlour.'

'I saw her go into Morrigan's room a few minutes ago.'

He froze. _Morrigan's room?_ 'Would you-'

'_Non_.' The redhead shook her head fiercely and hurried on to the front door to drop her bag in the yard ready to leave in a few minutes.

Taking a steadying breath he moved down the corridor towards the witch's room. Even though it was partly ajar, he raised his hand to knock, but froze when voices floated through the small gap in the door.

'-but that doesn't mean I want a relationship with him!' Nyra's voice sounded panicked. His hand dropped to his side and he leaned towards the gap to hear better.

'You know how he feels and yet you allowed him to kiss you; upon your bed no less.'

'But- but that doesn't mean that he's going to think that we're suddenly _together_ does it?' Her voice sounded higher than usual.

''Tis Alistair we're talking about, is it not?' Nyra groaned, and a look of indignation crossed Alistair's face. _Nyra thinks that I think that we're automatically a couple? Because we kissed?_

That_ was way more than any kiss you've ever had, _a smug little voice chirped up, as his hand raised to touch his lips, recalling the way her own felt against his; soft, supple… delicious.

'To be fair to the boy,' the witch continued, 'he didn't come out announcing wedding plans. Perhaps you are being unjust to him – as much as that pains me to say.'

'But you know how he feels. I told you about when I found him in the Fade-'

'Yes,' the witch snapped. 'And I am still angry about that – I don't care if you are less susceptible to their lure, you _never _play along with demons! You _both_ could have been lost within the Fade's clutches.'

Alistair's eyebrows raised at that. It almost sounded like Morrigan cared… about Nyra at least.

Nyra muttered another apology before the witch sighed. 'Forget that, 'tis past and you will not do anything of the sort again. Now,' a sound like the patting of a bed caught his ear, 'tell me why 'twould be a bad thing to be romantically involved with Alistair.'

Silence met his ear.

'Okay, demon, leave Morrigan's body and bring her back to me.'

'Ha ha,' Morrigan drawled. 'Truth be, 'twould be a bit sickening to watch you two, but I imagine 'twould take your minds from our… situation. You are the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, you understand each other far better than I or any of our company could.'

'I… I didn't think you thought much of love, Morrigan, after telling me how replaceable men where.'

'What an odd thing to say. Why must 'love' enter into the equation?'

'But you just said-'

'To indulge in love is to indulge in delusion. Surely a Grey Warden such as yourself does not believe otherwise? I was merely suggesting that you form a companionship, enjoy a warm bed of a night and the pleasures that a man can bring. He may be a simpleton-' Alistair bit back an angry retort, 'but I will not deny that he does have a fine body.'

'Morrigan!'

'What?'

'Well, first of all, he's _not _a simpleton!' Alistair's back straightened at Nyra's defence and a smile spread across his face.

'As you say.'

'Secondly, I do believe otherwise. Love is not a delusion.'

'I see. Well we all have our weaknesses, don't we.'

'Love isn't a weakness, Morrigan.'

'Really? 'Tis why there are many tales of men doing stupid things for women they profess to love, who have gotten themselves into silly situations that they could not get themselves out of. Those men would have been better getting new women who were not stupid enough to be kidnapped or cursed or whatever.' Before Nyra could respond the witch threw another question her way. 'So are you saying that 'tis because you do not love the Chantry-raised brat that you do not wish to become his heart's desire?'

'No, I never said that-'

'So you _do_ love him?'

'I never said that either.'

'Then what stops you?'

Nyra hesitated with her answer and he imagined she was nervously nibbling on her lip again. When she finally answered, he had to strain to hear.

'He was my first friend.' A sigh. 'The first who was my friend simply because of me. Not my position, my power or my title. He just likes me for who I am; I don't want to ruin that.' The witch began to speak, but Nyra cut over her. 'No, what happens if we do begin a relationship, what if he falls in love with me-'

_Too late,_ his mind whispered.

'And I don't fall in love back. Or the other way around. We're not farmhands and milkmaids, Morrigan, we're at war-'

'Alistair!' Zevran's voice called from the entrance way, causing him to jump and curse under his breath. Quickly taking two steps back he called to the elf that he was just seeking Nyra for Gorim. As he stepped back to the doorway and raised his hand again to knock, the door swung open and Nyra appeared, her face flushed and her eyes unable to rise any higher than his chest.

'You're looking for me?' she asked, a nervous tilt to her voice.

'Gorim is here… he brings a gift and a request. I, ah,' he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 'I don't think you're going to like his request.' He stepped aside the moment the frown appeared upon her face, allowing her to hurry down the hallway, his eyes followed the sway of her hips as she went.

'Tell me, Alistair.' Morrigan's voice in his ear made him jump. 'What if a Grey Warden was forced to choose between the Warden he loved and ending the Blight? What should his choice be?'

'I- what?'

'Think about it, Alistair,' she said as she picked up her pack and pushed past the confused man. 'For one day it could be a question you shall have to answer – and quickly.'

o-O-o


	26. Chapter XXVI: Revelations

Chapter Twenty-Six: Revelations

The paragons of the Dwarva unsettled Lowena; they appeared to be staring down at her, casting their judgement against her, the Stone finding her unworthy of her feet upon it. Yet this was where they had said the Commander of the Grey had retreated to that morning and so the scholar stepped through the giant doors that led from the warm city centre, to the drafty corridor that gave way to the escape to the surface.

She frowned as she looked around the busy hallway; people jostled for positions in front of various paragons as they delivered their prayers to the deities, something Lowena couldn't get her head around. They were blocks of black stone – hard, unfeeling, lifeless chunks of… well, rock; how could they answer the prayers of a people?

Finally the scholar's eyes landed upon her target – her bright white hair still causing her to stand out even after all these years.

The Commander stood alone at the base of one of the statues, her cold, grey-blue eyes focused intently upon its feet as her hands caressed the strangely carved boulder. Others watched the Princess as she paid her respects to whichever paragon she had chosen, but they did so from afar, either too terrified or too awestruck to approach the only living Paragon the dwarves had.

'I see you found me,' the Commander's voice was flat as Lowena approached.

'I'm sorry to interrupt your prayers, Commander,' her voice was shaky, it was never good when the Commander's voice held no emotion.

'Prayers?' Nyra scoffed, her hands stroking the stone affectionately. 'He'd kick my arse if I he thought I was praying to him.'

'You sound as if you knew him.'

Nyra turned her head sharply, a frown marring her still pretty features. She cocked her head to one side as she assessed the scholar before her. 'I'm surprised you haven't studied the paragons while you've been here – their stories are literally the stuff of legends… or most of them are at least.'

She waved her hand towards the entrance to the commons, 'Paragon Aeducan, my own Ancestor, resides within the commons facing the doorway – fitting as he rose from the thick of the common folk to unite the armies of Orzammar and beat back the Darkspawn, sealing the Great Seal and saving our people.'

She turned the opposite way to face the doors leading to the Frostback Mountains and walked towards the largest of all the statues within the hall, people parting before her like the sea over the bow of a boat. She said nothing until she stood before the monolithic statue that resembled more a lump of the black rock all the statues were carved from rather than an actual figure.

'This is Garal; she moved the capital of my people from Kal'Sharok or Orzammar, she now watches over those coming and going from the city she helped to shape.' Lowena watched as Nyra's eyes turned almost sad as she gazed upon the statue, but as quickly as the sadness appeared it disappeared again.

'Each Paragon,' her voice was emotionless, as if she had given this lecture, this tour, to a thousand others and was bored of it. 'Is elected by the assembly and promoted for their deeds. The older the paragon the closer to the entrance they are, the more recent towards the city itself – of course there are others within the city and some,' the Commander sneered, 'are still lost within the Deep Roads, their stone tainted by the Darkspawn that hold them.'

'Hrildan, is the oldest we have here,' she waved her hand to the left, 'with Lantea not far behind.' Her right hand waved indicating at another shapeless statue before she began moving back the way they came. 'They share the deepest connection with the Stone, but are quite far removed from our people because of it. You must sincerely need something with all your passion and heart for them to be able to hear you, and convey your wish to the Stone, but if you do it is most probable to happen.'

Nyra stopped suddenly and her gaze fell to the floor as a memory from many years ago took her away for a moment. The scholar watched the internal war with many questions upon her lips, but wisely bit them back.

'No one can remember why they were declared paragons, for their history was lost with the Roads.' She lifted her head and looked upon the long rows of previous paragons lining their walk way. 'Gherlon the Blood-Risen, Garen, Varen, Lynchcar, Seuss,_ Volney_.' The scholar noted the distaste in the Commander's voice on the last Paragon's name. 'They are revered and yet no one remembers why.'

As quickly as they stopped, the Commander was walking again. 'Ilona, trapped Malvernis in the Vimmark Mountain, ensuring that pestilence, death and decay did not threaten the Stone. Caridin created the Golems that we used to help fight back the Darkspawn – for a time.' They stopped again at the feet of a statue that did appear to resemble the legendary golem that fought at King Maric's side during the Rebellion. Again, Nyra touched the stone reverently as if she knew the Paragon personally.

'Behind us.' This time the Commander did not turn, she didn't even glance over her shoulder as she continued to look up at Caridin. 'Stands Paragon Branka – a crazy bitch who wiped out her entire household.'

'Her _entire_ house?' Lowena asked. 'How?'

'That's actually part of our tale – but that would be jumping _way_ ahead – she was the first Paragon elected in a hundred years and one many wish hadn't been.'

'But if she's part of your tale and the you're the only living paragon, whose likeness is this?' Lowena asked stepping back towards the sculpture she had found the Commander speaking to. 'It's not yours – you said "he", right?'

'This,' the Commander's tone took on a warmth the scholar hadn't heard since they were back at the keep as she stepped towards the figure that finally resembled something similar to a person. 'This is Paragon Oghren.'

'Oghren? The House of Oghren provides the majority of tithes to the Warden Compound here.'

'Yes,' the Commander chuckled. 'Felsi ensures that we are well provided for. Lowena you must really read up on the paragons whilst you can; Paragon Ohgren was not named for simply assisting the allowance of the Wardens' Compound here in Orzammar, he _was_ a Warden – one of the first that I recruited, after he helped to defeat the Blight.'

Nyra watched with secret merriment as she saw the implications dawn in the scholar's eyes. She had thought that the history of the closest things to gods for the Dwarva would have been something the girl would have lapped up in spades.

'It's ironic that he was made one in his own right; especially becoming such a beloved one after his first wife is probably the most despised of all the paragons at this time.' Nyra finally indicated towards the statue of Paragon Branka and almost burst out laughing at the startled eyes of the writer.

'They were married?'

'Before she went all crazy – an arranged marriage that he was never happy with. But again that's all part of the tale. What I _can_ tell you, though,' Nyra turned back to her absent friend, 'is that Oghren's tale is one that is rich with tears and laughter, heroic deeds, grave misfortune, and a legacy that will transcend time. Like mine, his tale is part of both the Dwarva's history and Ferelden's; although it is his actions here, as first Head Warden of the Orzammar compound, that raised him to status of Paragon.'

'_That _was Oghren?' The scholar asked in awe. 'The one who fought beside you during the Darkspawn attack of '43? When Orzammar was nearly wiped out?' Nyra nodded sadly. 'He was so brave saving those children.'

Nyra turned back to the statue of her missing friend, her hands caressing the base of it once again as if he had once been her lover. A question that Lowena couldn't help but ask.

'My lover?' Nyra asked, looking back at the girl in horror, before turning to the statue, throwing her head back and roaring with laughter. The girl jumped in surprise; she had never heard such genuine mirth from the woman before. 'You hear that Ogy. The girl thinks we've been forging the moaning statue, bucking the forbidden horse-'

'Tapping the midnight still, if you will,' Alistair's warm voice, filled with amusement only made Nyra laugh harder. 'Good to see you smiling again.' He wrapped his arm around his wife and moved in to kiss her.

'But Alistair,' she gasped in mock surprise. 'What about our audience? You don't think…'

'Remember, Oghren likes to watch.'

Lowena watched the Commander do something she had never seen before – blush like a young maiden as her husband swept her into his arms and claimed her lips for all to see. A round of soft sighs filled the hall and a smattering of applause followed before the two broke away.

'Have you asked him all you need?' Alistair's voice was only low enough for Nyra to hear. The living Paragon nodded and smiled at him. 'Good then let's go eat.'

'Oh, you and your stomach!' Nyra playfully battered his arm as he brought her back to her feet. 'Lowena why don't you join us and we'll continue our tale...'

The scholar took one last look upon the sculpture, who had caused such a surprising reaction in the cold, hard woman she knew, and blinked – had it had that wide grin the whole time?

o-O-o

'Then what stops you?' The witch's question was a good one and made me pause.

I nibbled nervously at my lower lip which still burned from the touch of Alistair's and the pressure of my teeth against it reminded me of his gentle bite, sucking it into his mouth and causing a reaction within me with an intensity I had never felt before. Cailan's kisses had felt like lightning, Gorim's like fire, but with Alistair it was as if I was caught in a storm; the lightning causing the fire and a wind whipping it to such an intensity it could not be doused with the rain.

With Gorim we both had to still be aware of what was going on around us, never able to get fully lost in the passion we wished could just over take us in case someone stumbled upon us. Conscious, quick and quiet fumbles were all we had ever experienced; even our final tumble hadn't been the one that I had always dreamed of.

I wanted to be made love to, to have a man focus his whole attention on me and only me, to shower me with affection and love before he took me to heights of passion I had never before ascended to. Alistair's kiss had focused my entire attention upon him; his lips upon mine, the feel of his hands upon my person, the sensations he was creating within my body, the hardness of his-

The witch nudged me, bringing me back to the conversation we were supposed to be having.

'He was my first friend,' I finally managed, before frowning and then sighing sadly as I realised the truth of my words. 'The first who was my friend simply because of me. Not my position, my power, or my title.' Gorim's eyes filled with a thousand calculations swam into my mind, before Alistair's open and friendly amber gaze replaced it, banishing the sadness and replacing it with warmth I had never felt before. 'He likes me for who I am; I don't want to ruin that.'

Morrigan frowned and opened her mouth – a scathing retort no doubt. I had missed the witch whilst we had been in the city; her straight answers and to-the-point discussions were a welcome relief and a refreshing change from the side stepping and tip-toeing conversations of Orzammar politics. However, I had come here for her to tell me that I was an idiot for snogging my friend, that I needed to completely distance myself from him, keep focused on the task of saving the world; I had certainly not expected a '_it wouldn't be so bad if you did get with him'_ debate!

'No,' I interrupted, whatever she was going to say. 'What happens if we do begin a relationship; what if he falls in love with me-' the image of Alistair holding me as we slept, of him sitting with me at the fire side, his arm draped around my shoulders, a fur wrapped around us as we laughed at one of Zevran's outrageous tales '-and I don't fall in love back? Or the other way around.' A sudden panic seized my heart at the idea of being left broken-hearted again. 'We're not farmhands and milkmaids, Morrigan, we're at war and if we were to fall in love, then break up, it could jeopardize-'

'-I'm just looking for Nyra – Gorim's here to see her, _again._' Alistair's voice called back down the corridor, close to Morrigan's slightly ajar door. I jumped up and ran towards the doorway to hear Zevran's chuckle as he commented on how Alistair's jealousy was adorable.

'You're looking for me?' I asked, unable to hide the nervousness in my voice that he had almost overheard my conversation. His own face was slightly flushed at Zevran's comment and as his eyes met mine I had to look away less he see my guilt over my discussion of him with Morrigan.

_He heard, he must have!_ My mind raced with the thought; exactly _how_ much had he heard though?

'Gorim is here… he brings a gift and a request,' the nervous tilt in he own voice caused me to raise my eyes and the way he ran his hand over the back of his neck – something he did when he was uncomfortable – caused my frown to deepen. 'I, ah, I don't think you're going to like his request.'

_Oh Ancestors!_ I thought pushing the door to the courtyard open, _This is the last thing I need right now._

o-O-o

I brooded as I marched towards the city limits. Nyra Evelyn Aeducan was not a happy woman.

The day had started off bad and had gotten progressively worse as we had gone on. First there was the whole breakfast fiasco, which had led to Alistair and me getting more than friendly upon my bed – _okay that part wasn't quite so bad, _ I admitted to myself – then Gorim had requested that the merchant Bodahn Feddic, to whom he had originally sold his sword, join us on our journey towards the south. Before I could tell him where he could shove his request – _and_ his sword – Sergeant Kylon had entered the courtyard that our lodgings overlooked and told Alistair and me that we had to leave the city limits immediately, as his orders were to arrest us and throw us into Fort Drakon.

'And trust me, even for a short stay, I do not want to put a woman in there – no matter how skilful or ruthless you are. Since Arl Howe's men have taken over, a woman's virtue is no longer safe in that place.'

'If one of those bastards touches me-'

'Nyra, not the time nor the place, nor the person!' Alistair scolded me as he grabbed my pack and shoved it at me. 'Move woman,' he advised as he grabbed his own pack. 'You lot sort this mess out,' he waved his hand in the general direction of Bodahn and Gorim, 'and meet us at the city limits towards Dragon's Peak as soon as you can.'

Ever since we had marched away from our group we hadn't said a word, except for Alistair's clipped directions to me to head towards the south of the city and the road towards Dragon's Peak.

_Why hasn't he said anything_? I thought, completely thrown off by his silence, my eyes glaring at the back of his head as he led the way.

At first I had worried that he definitely _had_ overheard Morrigan and me discussing the kiss and was upset that, one, I had spoken to the witch about it before him, and, two, that I had spoken to the witch about it at all. But the more the silence grew the more I reasoned that it wasn't that at all – that it was me, us, the kiss, the whole situation…

_Perhaps it wasn't as mind blowing for him as it was for me._ I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes widening in horror at the thought, before shaking it from my head. _No, there was definite evidence to the contrary at the time, _I mused thinking of his hard length pressing into my thigh. My heart quickened at the thought and I rubbed absently at the dull ache in my chest that it caused.

_Cailan declared his unwavering devotion to me after our kiss-_

_No, he asked _you _to give up everything, _a second thought made itself known. I pondered on that for a moment, continuing my march. _True, _I reasoned, _but he was still captivated, he persisted in chasing me – writing letters every few months, begging me the night before- _No I did not want to enter that train of thought.

_Gorim! _I nodded happily, feeling myself lighten again. _He couldn't get enough of me the first time-_

_The second,_ the evil second thought spoke again. _The first time he was trying to divert you from Cailan. _I kicked at the floor angrily, unaware of Alistair's glance over his shoulder towards me as I continued to scowl at the dirt road as if it was at fault for the entire situation.

_The second time was when he was dragging you out of Darvianak Volney's bedchamber… Volney still holds a grudge over that. _The random thought gave me pause for a moment before I shook my head clear. _And every other minor noble who thought they could work their way up by seducing you when you were throwing yourself at them. Ancestors! Looking back – if father had found out one of them had touched his precious daughter… _I cocked my head to one side, much like Bert, as I reasoned something even more depressing.

_If one had laid claim to me, my father would have made me marry them – Gorim would have been removed, disgraced for allowing me to… Was that another reason he sought my bed, my heart?_

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. I couldn't keep doing this. Clearly, Gorim was not who I had thought he was. His heart, it appeared, had probably never truly been mine. How could I not have seen?

It was only when Bert whined that I realised that I was growling and that Alistair had paused to look at me too.

'Keep moving,' I snapped, my scowl still firmly in place. _Fine I'm a terrible kisser then. He's disappointed, _I surmised, throwing Alistair a dirty look before snapping my head away and missing his surprised eyes at such an action.

_Bloody men, not worth the hassle. _ I felt a lump suddenly swell and form in my throat, causing me to choke slightly – I certainly would _not_ be crying! Not here, not ever. Not again. No man deserved any more of my tears – they were not worth it.

_I can make all of this disappear for a while,_ Zevran's lazy drawl echoed in my memory. _This pain, this torture that you have endured... Let me make it better, if only for an hour or two._

I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump. _No. _I decided firmly. My heart and my body were off limits now, no man would get to dent my heart, my confidence-

'Nyra,' Alistair's voice was soft as he tried to get my attention. 'Perhaps we should talk…'

_This is it, _my mind screamed as my heart thundered in my chest. _This is where he says it was a mistake, where he tells you that after all that mooning over me, after wanting me, defending me, almost losing his life over me, he has realised that there was nothing there-_

_But there most definitely was!_

_Men do not need to feel love to get an erection!_

_That's not the type of man Alistair is and you know it!_

I wanted to groan, realising that I was arguing with myself and I hadn't even been drinking! Clearly I was losing what little semblance I had of my mind – it was all just too much to bare.

'…Gorim said-'

And my vision went red…

o-O-o

The travel towards the south was not as difficult as the trek had been to Denerim. Bodahn's cart was making life on the road more bearable with our packs and equipment in the cart, and with me now riding in it, too, the pace was much quicker; what would have taken six days on foot to reach, was taking just four.

I had argued at first when Morrigan had suggested it, but after the second day I had seen how much my shorter legs were slowing the group down now that they were no longer hampered by carrying everything – I hadn't realised how much the humans tailored their speed for my benefit; how much quicker could we have gotten to the Circle Tower if we had had Bodahn? Grudgingly, I was beginning to think of asking if he wished to accompany us to Redcliffe.

I sighed and looked out at the retreating landscape, my legs dangling off the back of the cart; although I wasn't marching and keeping point, I wanted to be ready to spring into action at the drop of a hat – unlike Wynne, who was tucked up towards the front of the cart.

'Hello, pretty lady,' Bodahn's simpleton son called to me as he climbed over the front seat of the cart and picked his way through our hastily thrown belongings. I sighed and rolled my eyes, annoyance at Morrigan tickling my conscious again that it was she who had agreed to allow the merchant passage with us after Alistair and I had left.

'I would need to be a bear to carry that load,' she had reasoned looking scornfully at the pack we had insisted she carry. Sandal had asked could she actually _be_ a bear which had only caused Morrigan to sneer at him before walking away.

'Hello, Sandal,' I muttered. The boy had done nothing but watch me since that point, constantly turning to look at me from his seat. If I had been able to walk up front it might not have been so bad…

'Enchantment?' He poked at my tired looking daggers secured to my hip. With my gleaming new armour – a gift from Dalid – they looked inferior and useless. I eyed the child, weighing up my words; this was, after all, the first time the lad had spoken to me – apparently he was still wary of me since I had threatened his father's life the first time we met.

'Not these old things.' I sadly touched them. 'I wouldn't waste your talent.' I patted the cart next to me inviting him to sit down. I glanced towards Alistair, who was taking rear guard, and glared at him to wipe the smirk off his face. Although we hadn't spoken yet, I had noticed his amusement, watching me trying to avoid the eyes of the strange man-child around camp.

'Don't get to "enchantment" lots,' he said sadly as he dropped heavily next to me. 'Da wants lots, people not want.'

'That's a shame. I bet you'd like my _actual_ dagger; that has runes and enchantments upon it so old that no rune master alive has so far been able to tell me what they are, or how they work.' I tore my eyes from my fellow Warden and looked at the boy, not surprised to see the eager anticipation written all over his face.

'Taint afraid?' I nodded, thinking of how the taint would recede wherever I pointed the blade. 'Old,' he sighed wistfully before staring out into the dimming light – we'd have to make camp soon. 'Find it?'

'A gift,' I told him. 'King Maric found the original sword in the Deep Roads-' I jumped as Sandal's head whipped around, and his usually vacant eyes focused intently upon me. 'I, errr…'

'Story!' the young lad demanded.

'Well, I- I mean,' I hurried to gather my thoughts, thrown off by the sudden age that was apparent in the young man's usually slightly vacant eyes. 'He, ummm, he found it in the Roads during the rebellion when he was in hiding with… well, that's not important. But he used that sword to bring freedom to his people. When I was just ten and six he came to Orzammar with a great group of people – it was a special event as his son had come of age and was being presented to King Endrin, and thus a week-long celebration was held, with provings every day.

'Hundreds took part throughout the week, but the Grand Proving was held the night prior to his departure back to the surface. I fought with everything I had that day, feeling that I would either win or lose everything. I did win that day – but I did not fully understand what I was winning…'

I bit my lip, thinking of that day so long ago, when my choices were simply about which man to love, not how to save an entire nation. How strange to be telling this story again, I thought, thinking of how I had told it to Duncan just a few months ago. Yet a few months ago I was worried about meeting Cailan, now I'd give anything to see him again, just once to-

Alistair cleared his throat, his cheeks a little flushed and I realised that he too was listening to the story intently. I rolled my eyes.

'You see, that day, I thought that the choices that I made where about serving my people or serving myself. The truth is, the choice I made that day started all this. If I had made the other choice I'd be living a completely different life.'

'Not good,' the young man said solemnly, shaking his head as if the other choice would have been the worst thing for me, him and all of Thedas. 'Fate. Destiny. She show you.'

'She did,' I agreed, but the boy shook his head. Clearly I didn't understand his unique thoughts.

'Anyway,' I continued, dismissing his frown and suddenly old eyes. 'I won the proving and King Maric presented me with my dagger. It had been cut from his own sword as a symbol of our peoples making an agreement to assist one another with any future Blight that may take over his land.'

'Did he speak to you directly?' Alistair asked, surprising me. I frowned, wondering why he was suddenly speaking to me after days of silence and why his eyes seemed desperate for something I knew not what.

'Yes,' I said hesitantly.

'And?'

'He said that he hadn't seen a fighter so attuned to the skill in years – that he was sure that one day I would be running the armies of Orzammar, as was my desire, and when I did, he would be sure to communicate with me. But he died before I reached my command.'

'New king?' Sandal asked and I wanted to throttle the little bastard. It wasn't easy to keep avoiding the truth. Thinking on my feet wasn't a problem with the nobility of Orzammar, I knew the political plays back and forth, but here, with this group – _with Alistair_ – I wanted them to continue seeing me as Nyra.

'Cailan did keep to his father's word – although most of his strategic correspondence went directly to the king-'

'We have found a spot for camp,' Leliana announced as she came to the back of the cart. 'Morrigan says it is but a quarter hour walk from our current position.'

'Yey!' Sandal exclaimed, his eyes suddenly full of child-like innocence again as he clapped his hands happily, before scrambling back to his feet. 'Da! Da!' I heard him call excitedly as he climbed back over the equipment to the front of the cart. 'More stories, more stories!'

I rolled my eyes and sighed, before glancing at Alistair, ready to give him a wearisome smile, hoping that perhaps we were ready to bridge the gap, but my fellow Warden's gaze was fixed in the distance, lost in thought and clearly a hundred miles from where we were…

_What has got your mind occupied so? _ I wondered, but I bit my lip and focused again upon the retreating horizon and the dimming light. When Alistair was ready to talk, he would talk.

o-O-o

The wind snapped at my ponytail, blowing it in front of my face and catching me in the eye.

'Ancestor's tits!' I hissed pushing my hair back from my face, trying to tuck it into my new armour as I had my previous piece, but unlike the other, this fit like a glove and had no room to slip and hold my hair.

'When we're relieved, I could braid it for you if you like,' Leliana quietly offered as we sat watch, the others long asleep and snoring – at least I thought they were, but that could have been the wind.

I nodded absently to Leliana, agreeing to the friendly offer simply because I had no reason not to. Bert curled around me again, trying to give me a little extra warmth. The hound hadn't left my side since we had left Bodahn and his strange son in a village outside of South Reach, agreeing to meet back with him when we had finished our business with the elves.

The trek so far had been tense. Alistair and I were still at odds after our argument five days prior, and whilst it had not been too obvious when travelling with the cart and the distraction of Bodahn and his son with the group, with me walking again and slowing them down, and with the camp smaller again, the tension between us all was as tight as a pair of a Reverend Mother's undergarments.

I sighed as I thought back to what started it all. The others had joined us not long after Alistair and I had made it to the city limits, having the aid of Bodahn Feddic's cart. But by the time they had reached us, we were in the middle of a full blown row...

'-Say what you want, Nyra, but you gutted the man in full view of everyone! If I hadn't been so exhausted, beaten and _ashamed_ of my own actions last night, and then thrown for six by that lot this morning, I probably would have said this sooner. What you did was _wrong!_'

'My people solve-'

'See,' he interrupted me. 'This is what I do not get about you. You clam up, you refuse to talk about yourself, stating that you're exiled, you have no right, your people have stricken you from their memories, you don't exist, blah, blah, blah. Yet every excuse you have begins with "It's the way of my people"!

'Well, here's a bit of news for you, Nyra, your people don't want you – you've said that plenty of times in many of the excuses you've made to keep me, keep all of us, at arm's length. Your people turned their back on you, so stop trying to live by their rules; as you say, you have no right to live by them anyway!'

I don't know if it was him trying to mimic my voice, his excessively hand gesturing, or the truth of his words, but I was finally stretched beyond my limit.

'Go and fall on something sharp,' I threw back at him. 'It would probably be the most useful thing you could do! Sword fodder are what I use men like you for back home – men inept any everything except slowing Darkspawn down so we can slaughter them!'

'That's your answer to everything!' he bellowed back. 'Throw them in the Roads, that'll teach them about being part of the _Dwarva!_ More news for you Nyra, you're on the surface now, get used to it – start living like you are. Sorry that you're no longer some big shot commander, sorry that you're an outlaw up here too, sorry that we don't live up to your expectations-'

'No, Alistair, not 'we', _you_. _You_ don't live up to my expectations. You're pathetic.' I screamed at him. 'You can't lead, you can't make a decision, you can't do anything! I hate you! I hate you, I hate the surface, I hate _everything_!'

'Nyra, Alistair…?' Leliana's startled voice alerted us to our companions' presence. I refused to turn to them, but Alistair's eyes flicked over my head towards them.

'Well,' his voice became quiet; his face, ears and neck flushed red with anger and embarrassment at our group catching us screaming at each other. He returned his gaze to me, but it was no longer filled with the furious intensity it had been moments before, now it was simply sad. 'At least now I know where I really stand,' he said before he picked up his pack and walked to the back of the cart to throw it in with the others.

I had simply watched, seething in fury, as Alistair assembled them all and moved them on towards Dragon's Peak, leaving me to catch up to them when I had calmed enough. It was only as they had walked away, watching Alistair lead them towards the south roads skirting around Dragon's Peak, that I realised that throughout the shouting and the arguing, not once had either of us brought up the kiss…

I buried my face in my hands and groaned softly.

I had made a right mess of things now. Alistair's words had stung so much because they were the truth. My people did not want me, they reviled me. Given the chance they would string me up in a deep dark thaig and leave me to the Darkspawn and whatever other monstrosities crawled through the Roads nowadays.

Yet, in reality, I knew nothing of the surface, regardless of the many connections I had to and upon it. I knew no other way to live, no other way to reason. What I had been in Orzammar was all that I had of me. I had no idea who I was up here on the surface.

I was a leader, a commander, but I had no army.

I was a princess, raised in a political minefield, but I had no people to govern, no lords or ladies to pander to.

_Who am I?_ I wondered, stepping into Leliana's tent as Zevran and Wynne took watch.

'I… have I ever told you I really like the way you wear your hair?' Leliana asked tentatively as she combed my hair through; the soft bristles of her brush massaging my scalp, causing my eyes to drift closed with every pass through my locks. 'It's very nice and it suits you. Simple, not like the elaborate hairstyles we wore in Orlais. They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels… but I'm sure you're used to them too – the dwarven nobility are known for their parties and their jewels.'

I hummed in agreement, feeling some of the tension melting out of me as the brush grazed the side of my head.

'I know, from being around _nobility_ a lot in Orlais, becoming part of their groups, watching them closely, that their lives become like their hair… elaborate twists and patterns, decorated in pretty things to make it look like something different.

'I noticed that the more elaborate the hair got, the heavier it became, until the women began to stoop under the weight of it; necks that were once long and elegant became short and bent. I believe,' she continued as she put the brush to one side and slipped her fingers into my locks, rubbing at my head and causing me to whimper slightly. 'That sometimes the simplest things are the most effective, that less can be more.' She tugged on my scalp as she worked my hair into the pretty plait she promised.

'Are you saying that I should cut my hair off?' I muttered sleepily.

'Oh, Maker, _non_,' I could hear her own hair swishing as she shook her hear quickly. She continued to work in silence on the complicated style before sighing as she tied my hair off with the piece of leather twine I usually tied my hair up in.

'There,' she declared and pulled on the fur I was sitting on until I faced her. She held out the small piece of looking glass she had so that I could admire the braid. '_Très Bien, oui_?' I stared at the glass; I had never had my fringe taken off my face before – elaborate hair styles had been what Runa wore, I had never worn them like the bard suggested…

Slowly I raised my eyes as it dawned on me what she was saying.

'Nyra…' she began as she met my gaze.

'You know.' It wasn't a question.

'I always counted myself as being an excellent bard, I guess a few years in the Chantry made me forget a couple of important facts – like the royal household of the Dwarva, Lady Aeducan.' She inclined her head to me.

'I'm not the Lady Aeducan anymore!' I hissed, waving my hands in front of me to get her to quieten down. 'It was bloody Dalid bowing to me, wasn't it?'

'And everything he said,' she chuckled slightly. 'I guess Zevran knew from the start? Of course he did,' she continued as I began to nod my head. 'He is still in the game and I am very rusty at it, if our time in Denerim shows us anything – he ran rings around me within the city and trained you very well in the things he showed you. He taught me a thing or two also. Perhaps I will get him to train me too?

'Anyway,' she continued, dismissing my attempt to answer her question. 'What I am trying to say, Nyra, is that things are just best out in the open when travelling in groups such as this – so here goes; Alistair is right. You need to let go of your people and your ways, you need to accept the surface as your home now and learn to adapt to it.'

I blinked at her words, stunned by the bluntness of them; so unlike the sister I had picked up in the Lothering inn. Was this the bard she had been years ago?

'Wow, don't hold back.' If I had not come to the same conclusion already, my comment might have been more scathing than sarcastic.

'I'm sorry,' she blurted. 'I just- _non_.' She shook her head. 'I have to tell you these things, because it is damaging the group and I do not wish to see this fall apart – we have much to do and not a lot of time to do it in, I do not think. Fighting and falling out with each other will only slow us down and give the Darkspawn a better chance at destroying this land, and we have already lost too much!'

'Okay!' I exclaimed, grabbing her hands in mine, trying to calm her as her voice was starting to get slightly hysterical. Even above the winds, Wynne and Zevran were sure to hear her outburst. 'I get it, and you're right. I just…' I lowered my voice back towards a whisper. 'Leliana, I was a great princess – my people loved me, I did everything I could to appease them, defend them, fight for them...

'I outshone my brothers for that reason alone. Trian came off as stuffy and out of touch with the common folk. Bhelen was seen as weak; sucking up to whoever had the most power, usually trailing after Trian – how wrong we were about him. I knew how to turn on the charm; flutter the lashes, smile beguilingly… and kick the arse of the Darkspawn. But at the same time, I had Gorim…'

I dropped her hands and turned to look out into the cold night through the gap in the tent flaps and sighed as I looked across the camp towards the two tents that stood opposite – mine and Alistair's. As had been his routine since the argument, he had retired much earlier than the others straight after gobbling down his supper.

'Gorim helped you to become the princess, _oui_?'

'_Oui_,' I agreed. 'When we first met I had the looks, but I didn't really know how to use them to my advantage politically. I was a born fighter – especially with my daggers – but I had never even been in a real fight. Gorim had spent three years in the Deep Roads in the Special Forces Unit my father had commissioned to liaise with the Legion of the Dead.

'_He _taught me about tactical thinking, not just in a physical fight, but in political brawls too. He's almost ten years older than I and his father had been my own father's second, thus he already knew about the cut-throat world I was about to enter into. He taught me to use my looks to convey what the people wanted at that moment – a strong leader or a wilting princess.

'Unlike my brothers who had lower nobles as their Seconds, Gorim came from the people. He taught me what their needs were, how to speak to them and what leader they needed… Without him, I would have become so frustrated with not knowing how to get what I wanted – fighting in the armies! – that I probably would have ended up going nuts and killing everyone in the palace.'

'I see.' The bard looked at me thoughtfully, her lips pursed as she thought about my revelation. 'Alistair had been helping you up until we got to Denerim, _oui_?'

'I suppose.' I shrugged as I thought of the "toll collectors" outside Lothering, his knowledge of the country and its terrain, guiding towards the circle, negotiating prices and trade at the villages we stopped at-

I bit my lip as the thought that I had had over a month ago came back to my mind.

_He's my second up here._

I shook my head. _No_, I decided. _I can't, I just can't go through it all again_.

'Through what again?'

_Dammit! _ I hadn't meant to speak that aloud.

'I don't want to talk about it.' The tone in my voice brokered no room for argument.

'I see.' I could feel her eyes upon me, watching and weighing me. I knew I was being stubborn, that I was lacking the cool head that a good leader needed, but I just couldn't go through the heartache again.

'I think that it's time for me to retire, Leliana. Thank you for fixing my hair,' I remembered to add as I scrambled from her tent.

'Anytime,' I heard her reply as I stood up and looked around the camp.

Where Zevran was, only the shadows knew. Wynne, however, was very obvious with the glimmer of light she kept at her side. I rolled my eyes thinking of the beacon she was making of herself.

_Actually_… my eyes scanned the vicinity closest to her and I would have bet my last nug that Zevran was nearby, ready to strike any attacker stupid enough to go for the 'vulnerable' old women left all alone on watch. _Brilliant, my friend, brilliant, _I thought with a smile as I trudged across the camp towards my tent, unaware of the number of eyes watching me as I went.

o-O-o

_I do hope that you like this – I have received many followers and favourites again recently; Thank you! It means the world to know that people are still following along and liking it. And for those that leave reviews – an additional thank you – they make my day!_

_Also Artwork has been done for chapters 3 and 7 by Mistiqarts at Deviantart. Links can be found on my profile as they actually work from there! I have used the shortened links, which are 'faveme' links. Check them out – they are awesome! _


	27. Chapter XXVII: Tomorrows

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Tomorrows…

The earlier rain had made the ground wet and the camp's occupants miserable as we had set up the site; however, life had been brought back to the party after the rain stopped and well cooked meal by Zevran and a bottle of wine from Wynne was devoured by us all. Leliana had even been talked into singing a few cheeky songs. I smirked as she finished one highly dirty rhyme – involving a Reverend Mother, a Knight Commander and a Potato – as I admired the shine I had polished into my armour.

'Why do you always go on about how shtupid I am?' Alistair's slightly slurred voice made me groan; I was going to kill whoever had given him the wine. 'I'm not shtupid… am I?'

'If you need to ask the question…' Morrigan retorted. _Why_? I questioned the Ancestors again as I put down my armour and rose to my feet, seeing the pair squaring off on the other side of the campfire. It was rare for Morrigan to join the group, but on damp and chilly nights the witch didn't need asking twice to move her tent closer to the rest of the party.

'I was edupat- edufat- edu_ca_ted by the Chantry. I shtudied history. They don't make shtupid Templars, I'll have you know,' he clarified, wagging his finger in front of the apostate who wrinkled her nose and turned her face slightly in disgust of the man before her.

'Then I must have been mistaken. I'm _very_ impressed.'

'No you're not – you're not even lish'ng to me.'

'Morrigan,' I called out, a warning within my tone telling the witch to back off as I walked towards the pair. 'Would you check that the perimeter is secure whilst I get Alistair off to bed. In fact, I think it could be bedtime for everyone.' My voice was loud enough to ensure that they all heard the reprimand within it at whoever had gotten Alistair into this state; they all knew after the first night back on the road that he was worse on wine than ale and it had meant a double watch for me.

'Very well, Nyra.' The woman looked down her nose at the swaying Templar-Warden before turning on her heal and walking away.

'You hate me,' Alistair grumbled, his shoulders hunching and his eyes unable to meet mine as the others began slipping off to their own tents.

'No, Alistair,' I sighed, shaking my head, 'I don't hate you – not really. Now come on, to bed with you.'

'I don't wanna,' he muttered.

'You're going to be very sorry in the morning – you know your head hurt last time.'

Gently I took his large hand in my comparatively tiny one and lead him to his tent, opening the ties that held the flaps closed. I tried to ignore the heat that sparked within my palm and shot up my arm at the contact and somehow our fingers became entwined as I worked on getting his tent open. He simply stood watching me until I finally pushed the animal skins aside and stepped within the dark abode.

'You're a girl,' he pointed out, as if it was news, when he hesitated in joining me within.

'Well done, captain obvious.' I rolled my eyes as I lit his lamp.

'But girls can't come in my tent.' He pulled his hand away from mine and stayed within the entrance to the tent. 'The Reverend Mother would flay me alive if she found out.'

'Reverend Mo- For the love of…!' I sighed as I knelt down to pull his furs and blankets out across his bedroll. 'Alistair, you're not a Templar initiate anymore, you're a Grey Warden; Grey Wardens can have anyone they like in their tents.'

'Grey Warden…' I heard him finally step into the tent and heard the fluttering of the flaps fall behind me.

'Yep – for almost a year now,' I reminded him as I glanced over my shoulder.

'Grey Warden's,' his voice was suddenly gruff with desire. His gaze snapped from my behind to my eyes, and I leaned back on my knees as he dropped to his, his hand reaching out and cupping my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. '…Can have girls in their tent.'

He leaned in to kiss me, his eyes fluttering closed and I felt my own do the same as his breath ghosted my lips-

But the kiss never came as his body continued to lean, so much so that if I hadn't been nimble he may have crushed me as he crashed to the floor, luckily landing on the bedroll I had just set up.

I huffed in indignation. _Typical._

_For the best, _the sensible part of me reasoned. _You're still not talking to each other – best not to complicate things. _I couldn't fault it. It would be a disaster to kiss him whilst he was as drunk as he was; tomorrow he would either wake up with no memory of this evening or absolute clarity and either way would not bode well for me and my confused feelings right now.

I tugged the furs from underneath his deadweight, urging him to roll over so I could wrap him warm – he'd have to sleep in his clothes, there was no way I was undressing him! He moved with a groan, his eyes opening for a moment. I anticipated a sleepy smile, but was instead greeted by a deep frown as his hand once again reached up; this time going for my hair that was still plaited tightly upon my head.

'Nyra – your hair…'

'Yes,' I whispered, wondering what his drink addled mind was going to bring up now, but his hand fell back to his side as his eyes drifted close once more.

_Well_, I thought as I stood up and looked down at the man who was still almost as innocent as a youth. _That was… unexpected._

I trudged off to take the first watch, knowing I was going to be up again shortly to cover Alistair's – Zevran was really in a heap of trouble in the morning! – and considered the time that we'd had on the road…

We had made excellent time to South Reach to restock supplies and ensure Bodahn's safe passage as agreed, and since then we had been following a fresh water supply through the Brecilian Forest. Morrigan and Zevran had taken over leading the party due to their knowledge of working this terrain. Alistair and I had mainly been confined to cities in our training, Leliana had been in the Chantry for a few years and was still revising her skill set, whilst Sten was unfamiliar with the land beyond what he had traversed with his Beresaad brothers.

I rubbed my face tiredly, my hands running over my still plaited hair as I groaned; Leliana was right – we had a hard fight and a long road ahead of us – all this silliness was not conductive to our mission.

_Tomorrow_, I decided decisively. Tomorrow I would make things right between us. Tomorrow I would mend the bonds that had stretched our group… Tomorrow…

It was always 'tomorrow'.

What was I so afraid of?

o-O-o

The camp fire was still flickering beyond the wall of my tent when I awoke groggily for my second watch. Leliana and I were both taking shorter single watches to make up for Alistair's absence that evening.

Fragments of another nightmare clung to my sleepy state and I shook my head, trying to shake them away, only to stop abruptly as the sound of something other than the wind tickled my ear. A shadow rising at the side of the fire caught my attention and I immediately scrambled out of my bedding, my hands finding my daggers quickly as I made to the tent flap.

'Alistair.' I heard Leliana's voice, a little breathy as if she had been caught by surprise – he wasn't _that_ quiet, how had she missed his approach? I frowned as I thought of her sleeping on watch. 'Has the- um, are you feeling better now?'

He made a sound that could have answered the bard's question either way.

'Nightmare,' his sleep gruff voice finally answered.

'Oh, I see – Nyra has not made a sound, but I think it sweet that you check on her.'

_Check on me? _

The wind blew in the trees, but the same noise, a noise of something _pushing_ through the foliage around us, caught my ear again. It was the sound Zevran had pointed out to me on more than one occasion as we hunted through the forest; the sound of bears stalking through the greenery. Could bears be hunting us tonight? Had Leliana set the traps?

Slowly I lifted the tent flap and tried to peer at the camp without drawing attention to myself. Alistair and Leliana were still in conversation, but their voices didn't register as I cursed at my tent's position – the perimeter was completely obscured by the fire and the other tents.

The sound reached my ear again and I crept from under the canvas, my daggers still clutched tightly in my grasp, and turned to sweep my gaze over the forest behind my lodging.

'Nyra! We were just-' Alistair exclaimed from behind me.

'Shut up!' I hissed cutting him off, my eyes still focused on the forest; nothing but branches swaying gently in the soft wind. I frowned, I had definitely heard something. I stepped around my tent, making my way towards the tree line, my eyes desperately trying to adjust to the different levels of darkness through the branches. I strained to hear the noise again, but other than the logs on the camp's fire crackling and popping as they burnt, I could hear nothing but the wind and my own breath.

After a moment more I turned back to the pair to make my apologies when the noise caught my ear again.

'_Dekh_,'I whispered the curse in my own language. There was definitely _something_ out there and now I couldn't turn back without giving away that we knew. I saw Leliana reach for the bow I had found for her a few days before as her gaze searched the foliage behind me. Even if they hadn't heard what I had, they were now aware that something had me unsettled. Alistair motioned to me with the slight tip of his head towards his sword and I wanted to curse again – it was too far for him to get without drawing attention to the action. Of all the stupid, novice mistakes to make...

_Not the time,_ my mind chided. _Think of a way to help him…_

I flicked my eyes downward, to my left hand, and arched my eyebrow as I raised my gaze back to him; he nodded his understanding. I slid my sight to Leliana opening three fingers on my right hand to give the count and froze. Between the pair, on the other side of the fire, large dark eyes peered through the flickering flames, staring me down. I threw my glance to Alistair, hoping he'd see the sudden panic in them, and my breath caught in my throat – the _thing _followed suit. I saw its long snout as it turned, its lips drawn back bearing its razor sharp teeth and I knew that there was no way I could get my dagger to Alistair's hand in time... and my throwing blades were still in my tent!

The monster shifted – just as Bert did when he was ready to pounce.

'Alistair!' I screamed and moved towards him, but I was too far and Leliana's turn was too slow as the beast jumped over the flames, knocking the bard to the floor as it sunk its teeth into Alistair's shoulder – missing his neck only because he had moved at my alarm. I made to move towards him, only to freeze as another feral growl sounded behind me.

I turned just in time to see another beast, this one slightly smaller than that attacking Alistair, jump from the tree line and dash towards me. I had to get to Alistair, but I wouldn't reach him before this second beast got to me. I cursed myself for not having at least thrown my chainmail mesh on before leaving my tent.

'Nyra!' Zevran called out, as he ran towards the beast charging towards me and slipped into the shadows. Sten's roar of '_Katara, bas!_' gave my feet movement as I saw him explode onto the scene from his tent, his broadsword raised high and swinging towards Alistair's attacker. The light of magic glowed behind him, presumably from Wynne and Morrigan, as I finally found my feet and also hurtled towards the second monster. I tackled the beast head on; nimbly dodging it's failing arms and it's gnashing teeth as I tried to plant my blades. The thing quickly reared back, howling in agony, as a gush of blood spluttered from between its shoulder and neck, spurting in a neat arch over its back. Zevran shimmered into view high on its shoulders, his blades buried into the monster.

He jumped off it as I thrust my own daggers deep into its chest – where a man's heart lay – and twisted, ensuring the job was done by ripping them out as the beast staggered back towards the forest before collapsing in a heap. Without a second thought of any other danger I turned on my heel and ran towards Alistair, jumping over the head of the other creature that bounced in my way after Sten cleaved it from its body.

I ran to my fellow Warden, dropping to my knees before I reached him, skidding slightly through the still wet and muddy ground to his side. Wynne was already tending to him, her hands glowing blue-white as she trailed her fingers along the holes that wept with copious amounts of his blood.

'Alistair, are you – can you...' I trailed off as my gaze lingered on his wound; my mouth went dry and I struggled to breathe. How could anyone survive _this_? His blood pooled around my knees and Wynne's hands were shimmering with it as they danced over the bite marks. 'Please,' I managed to whisper, ripping my gaze from his shoulder and looked imploringly at the aging mage. 'Please!' Wynne merely shook her head as her lips continued to move silently with healing spells.

Alistair moaned in pain, his eyes screwed tightly shut, his lips open trying to grasp for breath and there was nothing I could do... For the first time ever, there was _nothing_ I could do for him and I wondered if he'd felt at as much a loss back at Flemeth's hut when the witches had tried to save me.

'Alistair,' I tried to sound commanding, but even to my ears my voice sounded shaky. 'Alistair, look at me.' I gently gripped his chin, careful to avoid Wynne's hand, and he opened his eyes, finding mine. 'Do _not _give up. You _will_ live.' He had to. There was no way I was doing this without him. I was doing this whole bloody thing _for _him. I wanted to go to Orlais, to join with the other Wardens and screw this stupid country with their traitorous leaders and gullible population; let the Darkspawn take them for their stupidity. But Alistair... Alistair in his wonderful naivety, believed in it, believed that we could help them, could make them see, and I didn't want to spoil the simple, but powerful faith that he had in what the Grey Wardens stood for.

His hand reached up, stroking back my hair that had fallen loose from my braid and hung over my eyes, as he tried a weak smile that turned into a groan at his movements. I grasped his hand to my cheek, supporting the arm for him, and squeezed it gently, letting him know that I was here for him... finally.

'Nyra,' he managed to breathe shakily. 'I'm sorry, I-'

'No,' I whispered interrupting him as I gently caressed his cheek with my free hand. 'I'm sorry – it's my fault, _all_ of it.' He made to speak again, but I pushed my finger against his lips to quiet him, as I brought his hand from my cheek and kissed it gently, before laying it back at his side, yet keeping it within my grasp. 'Please, fight Alistair; I can't do this without you. I _won't_ do this without you – please, you have to be strong. You... you don't want the bards singing just about me, do you? If you go now, they'll forget that you were ever at my side... and you don't deserve to be forgotten about...'

A weak smile played upon his lips before his body shuddered as he moaned and I watched him slip into unconsciousness. I blinked in shock, biting back the raw cry of terrified emotion that wanted to spill form my throat at his sudden blackout. I thought of every prayer that I could and offered them to the Ancestors – and his maker – for his life.

'Is he?' Leliana asked, her voice quivering.

'No,' Wynne murmured. 'I had to send him to sleep; healing works quicker if he's out.'

I opened my mouth to speak when another sound, more movement, from the other side of the camp caught our attention. The bard cocked her bow again, turning towards the other side of camp, where the first creature had come from. Zevran called the shadows around him and disappeared, Sten raised his sword and Morrigan's magic shimmered within her hands.

'Do _not_ stop, Wynne... please,' I begged as I stood, grabbing at my blades as the sound of an arrow whizzing through the air from within the forest pinpointed where the attack was going to come from. I motioned for Leliana to fall back slightly, behind where Alistair's shield stood, and moved Morrigan near her as well. Sten stood near me, his mighty sword held high, ready to charge at whatever was heading our way, whilst Bert growled from the other side.

'I don't care what happens,' I muttered to them all. 'Your priority is to protect _him._' I pointed at Alistair. 'If you want to see this quest through to the end, _I'm_ the expendable one, he's not.' Sten grunted his understanding, Morrigan and Leliana looked surprised but nodded, and, although I couldn't see the elf, I knew that he was frowning at my words, but that he would see them through.

Another arrow whizzing and then another followed by a feral roar of pain came from the trees and another beast, similar to the one that Zevran and I felled, came crashing through the trees into our clearing, howling as it fell to the earth, a number of arrows buried into its back and one of Leliana's traps caught around it's ankle.

Before we had time to react, a lithe blonde elf jumped through the hole in the tree line the thing had created, his eyes fixed upon the beast as he approached it carefully, kicking at it with his foot to ensure it was dead before he nodded back at the trees as if to confirm. Almost immediately a tall female, with hair as dark as Morrigan's, that fell down her back, walked from the forest, her eyes fixed upon us. My whole body tightened as she neared, watching as her gaze swept over each of us, lingering slightly longer than needed on Alistair, before she faced me. Her dark eyes flickered over me, sizing me up, and I saw her calculating the possibilities of my reactions to whatever it was she was about to say.

'The _shemlen_ was bit by the werewolf?' she asked, her mouth turned into a sneer on the word 'shemlen.'

I frowned. 'Shemlen?'

'The human,' it sounded as if the word tasted filthy on her tongue, 'he was bit by the creature?'

'Yes.'

Before I had time to react, she stepped back a few paces and raised her voice. 'He's been bit; kill him – bring the others to Za-' Her words froze on her lips as her neck arched back as if someone was holding onto her long hair. I smirked. Zevran was behind her.

'I will not,' I heard her hiss. 'He must die.' I heard a rustle in the bushes and discretely pointed to the noise for Leliana to focus upon.

'Who else is with you?' I asked, stepping towards the woman. 'Tell them to show themselves or I'll ensure that these _things_,' I kicked at the monster on the floor, 'are the least of your worries.' The blond elf, still stood at the trees, aimed his bow towards me causing Sten to growl. 'I assure you, my people are quite willing to die for the cause of the Grey Wardens.'

'The Grey Wardens?' the dark-haired elf managed to choke out. 'The Wardens are all dead – killed at Ostagar – the news reached us some time ago.'

'Tell me then.' I moved towards Alistair's tent. 'Why does Alistair, the human, wear the armour of the Warden Commander? Why do he and I hear the hum of the taint when the Darkspawn are near? And why are we searching for the Dalish in order for them to fulfil their duty that they are bound to when the Grey Wardens call?'

The elf's eyes widen at my words. 'You know of the treaties?' she managed. I nodded and ran my hand over Alistair's chest piece that rested outside his tent. Her dark eyes followed my fingers as they caressed the insignia. 'It makes no difference if he is the Commander of the Grey, he is a dead man.'

'No,' Wynne's voice piped up. 'He is living still, and I have stopped the bleeding, for now. But he should live. By tomorrow he will be well, if a little sore and stiff – probably a little worse for wear but most definitely alive.'

'That is not what I meant.' The elf swallowed, and I thought I saw the shimmer of Zevran's knife for a moment against her slender throat. 'He has been cursed by the bite, the creature that bit him passed it to him. He shall be as they are, become a monster at the moon's light.' She swallowed and I realised Zevran had said something in her ear again, something too low for us to hear.

'Yes,' she stammered. 'There is a window before the curse takes over, for a Shemlen a day or two, but we are three days from our clan and Zathrian is the only one who has any hope of turning the curse. Many of our clan are suffering from an attack – it is why we were out chasing them.'

'Are you telling me,' I started, my eyes narrowed as I processed what she told me. 'That Alistair is going to become one of those... _things?_ That they're humans who have been cursed?'

'Not just humans, my people too. They attack and turn us as much as they do humans.'

'Who is this Zavian that you speak of?'

'Zathrian; he is our keeper, our _hahren_ – our clan leader so to speak.'

I weighed her up before finally telling her, 'Call your people out of their hidings.'

With a quick command, half a dozen elves slid from the trees; most where hunters, I deducted from their elegant bows, but a few were scrappers from the blades they held.

'You will take us to your Keeper, _including_ Alistair. Unless he succumbs to this curse you profess he is now under, he will remain alive and unharmed, do I make myself clear.' The woman bit her lips tightly shut and I felt my anger flare within me. I took a shaking breath and counted slowly until I was able to speak without issuing her death. 'If you don't, I will ensure that the Dalish receive no protection from the Wardens when they enter from Orlais, I will ensure that they know of your failure to comply to the treaties you are bound to and leave you to face your death at the hand of the Darkspawn-'

'_Ma nuvenin_ – as you wish. And if he does yield to the curse?'

I turned to look at Alistair; he looked so peaceful in his magically induced slumber. His breathing had improved and the wounds appeared smaller as Wynne continued her work.

I met the woman's eyes; 'Then I'll kill him myself.'

Leliana gasped and the shadows fell away from Zevran at my words.

I swallowed.

Perhaps I had finally run out of tomorrows…

o-O-o

'You said _what?'_ Lowena exclaimed, her eyes widening and darting quickly between Alistair and Nyra. Her mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish out of water and elicited a small smile from the pair watching her. 'How could you...'

'Say something like that?'

'Even _think_ something like that? He was your friend, the man that you- that you were-' the scholar spluttered.

'It's okay, Lowena,' Alistair chuckled. 'I live in the end.'

'But...'

'Nyra was right,' he said, his voice softening as he saw the confusion, disbelief and a hint of mistrust directed at his wife from the girl. 'I would rather have died by her blade, or any of our other companions – well perhaps not Zevran's,' he grinned again, 'then turn into one of those things and risk their lives.

'All Grey Wardens carry a curse,' he continued. 'It's just we chose to end our lives fighting in the Roads before it turns us into one of them... a ghoul, a shadow of our former selves bent on causing pain and suffering to those around us. Personally I'd rather not turn into a ghoul _or _a werewolf, Nyra felt the same.'

'I'd have wanted Alistair to do it for me – that's why I knew to offer, it's inherent within the Grey Wardens. We want to stop the Darkspawn and to do so we take a part of them, but we never wish to _become_ them, to become the problem, to hinder the Order in anyway. It was the same with those _things._'

'So you'd kill him now if he turned into-'

'Without a second thought.' Nyra's eyes burned straight through Lowena's. 'And I'd expect him to do the same for me.' Alistair nodded his head in agreement, his expression solemn, and the scholar felt her cheeks flush in the warm hall, dropping her gaze from the two upmost Grey Wardens in Ferelden and Orzammar.

If Nyra had wanted to continue speaking to the girl who had looked at her with horrified eyes at her confession she was unable to as the doors to her royal office opened and a number of men in shiny black armour stood, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

'Our apologise, my lady, we were told to come through,' one man spoke in a deep gruff voice.

'That's correct; come through, honoured soldiers, we had just finished.

'I think our time is up,' Alistair said. 'There's a lot of Orzammar and Warden business to be discussed tonight.' Lowena nodded her understanding as she watched Nyra stand and move towards the men that had entered.

The scholar pushed her chair back and dipped her head to the Commander who had already stood to leave trough another door within the office with the men who had just arrived.

'We'll send for you when we're next free.' Alistair bowed to the girl before turning and taking his place at his wife's side, not seeing the angry frown on the scholar's face directed at his wife's retreating back before the girl turned in a whirl of fabric and marched from the room.

Unknown and unseen by anyone, a small figure clung to the shadows and followed...

o-O-o

_*__ Katara, bas - Die, Thing! Taken from the Dragon Age Wiki – Qunari Language._

_* Dekh – Shit or crap. There isn't a lot on the Dwarven language on Dragon Age Wiki or other such sites, so I just made it up. I usually only have Nyra curse in her language in Alistair's POV, but as this was hers I had to make something up._

_I am blown away by the amount of visitors I have had to this tale this month – Thank you all for taking the time to read, favour, follow or review! It pleases me to know that people are still enjoying this story as I continue on with it._


	28. Chapter XXVIII: Cursed

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Cursed

When Lowena was recalled to the couple it was to a sitting room in the public area of the palace. It had only two solid stone walls, the others had large windows running the length and width of the room where occupants could order their servants to fetch them refreshments or items that they might require. There were many such rooms dotted throughout the richly decorated fortress – as she thought of it – but this appeared to be one of the more private versions of the rooms; it was set the furthest from the entrance to the building and down a very long corridor that only those residing within the structure would have need to venture down.

Voices, approaching the room, caught her ear as she peered at a number of books on a low bookcase beneath one of the strange internal windows, and she strained to hear what they said. King Gorim's voice was low, but his words sounded as if they were urging someone to hear what he was telling them. Alistair's small protest was quickly cut off by an unfamiliar voice.

'Your highness,' this was either directed at Alistair or Nyra as no one called King Gorim anything less than "majesty". 'I saw with my own eyes what she-' this new voice was quickly silenced with a _oomph_ sound as if someone had hit or kicked the man, making her frown as she stood up, quickly grabbing whatever book was within reach, and met the steel-blue eyes of Lady Nyra Theirin nee Aeducan, Grey Warden Commander, Paragon and Princess of Orzammar, and wife of Prince Alistair Theirin of Ferelden.

'Commander!' Lowena's surprise was genuine – she hadn't thought that the group was so close. Nyra nodded her greeting and stepped through the doorway, sinking heavily into the chair closest to her and sighed. The scholar followed, slightly disappointed that none of the others had joined the commander, instead they had continued on into the private quarters of the palace without even a pause to greet her.

'Fetch me a bottle of _Tapster's_ finest.' For a moment Lowena thought that Nyra had issued the order to her until she saw an unseen servant's shadow scurry away in the same direction the men had travelled. 'Now, where were we?'

'Ummm…' Lowena sat down opposite the woman she had once respected for her strength and abilities in leading an army just as well – if not better – than any man she had heard off. 'How long was it before Alistair recovered?'

'After Wynne healed him up that night,' Nyra said without opening her eyes. Lowena bristled at her rudeness; although it was not something she was unfamiliar with. 'He slept until the morning. The Dalish camped with us until dawn's first light touched the sky and then we gathered our things and left. Initially Alistair was a little worse for wear, having lost a good amount of blood, but otherwise no different to how he had been before the bite – which annoyed Mithra to no end.'

'Mithra?'

'The dark-haired elf. She was sure that my knife would be through his heart by first light.' Nyra smirked at the old memory. 'But Alistair proved her wrong. He woke up the next morning, sore but only as weak as someone who had a raging hangover and saucily asked Wynne why she couldn't darn socks as well as she could mend his wounds. The ol' biddy was none too impressed by his cheek, but was relived enough to see him up and about that she allowed it to slip that once.

'But as we pressed south east – not too far from our original direction – it became apparent that he had been affected by the curse the werewolves carried. Each day he became a little weaker and he retired to bed right after eating, falling into a deep sleep which was hard to rouse him from in the morning.'

'And what did you do as he slept?'

Nyra finally opened her eyes and met the scholar's gaze, 'I... waited.' She sighed heavily. 'Leliana and Wynne would check on him after he had fallen asleep – ensuring that he was still... Alistair. And then, when they'd gone to bed, I'd gather the shadows and go and sit with him for a while.'

'You'd go in his tent and just... sit with him?'

The commander shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with the ribbons on her dress she was forced to wear by King Gorim when she wasn't doing anything official as Warden Commander. 'I... read to him...'

o-O-o

'_Blesséd are they who stand before  
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
Blesséd are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.  
Blesséd are the righteous, the lights in the shadow  
In their blood the Maker's will is written.'_

I turned the page and continued on, my voice low, loud enough only for Alistair to hear as I traced the words with my finger as I read them.

'_Blesséd are they who fight for the weak  
The weary and the captured and do not stop.  
When all seems lost to man, those are the champions of the just.  
Blesséd are those that fight with no reason to gain  
Except to free men from those that seek to corrupt._

'_Blesséd are these, as I shall embrace them to me  
And no more shall they suffer as I take them  
Back to the Maker's-'_

I paused and frowned at the words. 'Okay, perhaps these are a little more depressing than I thought.' I murmured as I reread them. 'I thought the _Canticles of Benediction_ would be nice things – it reads more like a eulogy.' Alistair turned restlessly in his sleep and I peered over the large book on my lap. I had found the tome in Denerim and had taken it, planning on reading it to see what Alistair murmured each evening as we set camp, bent upon one knee, head bowed, leaning upon his sword before him. I had quickly realised that this wasn't a book for light reading.

'Did you really memorise all these?' I asked in wonder, my hand flickering idly at the edge of the pages as I gazed at him. A thin sheen of sweat beaded his brow, the strain of walking and carrying all his equipment was wearing him out due to his injury – that was what it had to be, there was no way he was succumbing to this mythical curse. I reminded myself to tell Sten that he was carrying Alistair's pack from here-on-in; it was going to cause him – both of them – to grumble, but Sten would relent when I would remind him that I was still willing to help him find his Asala.

I bit my lip. I had promised so much to so many; how was I ever to fulfil them all?

'It's your fault you know,' I told him as if he could hear me. 'In Orzammar you never had to keep promises – they were made, but you only kept them if they could gain you something. Even within your own family. You know, my brother was going to ensure that Gorim and I could marry, but only if I promised him-'

I froze, clutching the book to my chest as Alistair shifted and moaned, ever so slightly, finally releasing the air when he settled again and I realised that no one had heard him.

'You, with your sweet innocence and endearing naivety,' I whispered this time, closing the book and putting it to one side. 'Are the reason that I'm so confused at the moment. I'm supposed to be heartbroken over Gorim, still grieving his betrayal and instead I'm furious at you for not acknowledging what happened between us! We were screaming everything at each other and not once did you bring up kissing me.

'Why did you kiss me? Why did you ignore me afterwards? It wasn't like you – you should have been singing from the rooftops that you had finally tasted my lips; you should have been following me around like the puppy you mimicked when we set up camp, but you didn't you just-'

I threw my hands up in the air in frustration.

'I get it,' I sneered. 'I look better than I actually perform in the bedroom – I'm a disappointment to you, but I wish you had just said it. It's not like you held back anything else.'

I made to stand up, before pausing and looking at his sleeping form, his face peaceful and full of the innocence he professed he still had. I sighed and sank back into my seat.

'I'm angry because I don't know how you feel. I don't know how _I _feel, and I don't think I will until I know how you feel.'

_Or at least I won't admit it until you tell me. _A small whimper escaped him as his head turned towards my voice. I picked up the cloth that lay near him and dipped it in the cool water in the bowl next to it. Pressing the rag gently to his warm head, I soothed him back to his deep slumber.

'I'm sorry I abandoned you in Denerim' I murmured, trailing my fingers softly along his jaw, feeling the growth of beard from his lack of shaving as I wet the cloth again. 'That wasn't my intention.'

I bit my lip as a knot of guilt at my words tightened in my chest.

'Oh okay,' I sighed. 'Yes, yes it was. I _was_ going to bring Gorim along, but after I found out what he had done, I hadn't planned on leaving you to fend for yourself, it was just that… I did something I'm not proud of…

'I killed a man – no not the one Kylon was on about. I killed a man who had done nothing but been part of the reason for my heartbreak. I murdered a man because in Orzammar it would have been my right. Yet all he did was fall in love with a woman that he was unable to have. Their lives reflected what mine would have become in Orzammar – cuckolding some lesser noble into raising Gorim's child – and I snapped…'

I put the cloth back into the bowl and brushed his hair back as I leant over him, whispering thoughts that I had held at bay for weeks. Ones I had scarce admitted to myself.

'That night made me realise a few things. But the biggest one was that I would _not _use you. I was distraught that I had even tried to earlier that night. You deserved more than that. Alistair, I have never sought the approval and friendship of someone so much since I first tried to impress Gorim when he became my second. He'd been a veteran of the Deep Roads Elite, the _crème de la crème_ of my father's forces and he had so much to teach me. You…

'Well, to be honest,' I smiled sheepishly, 'I don't know why I wanted to impress _you_. You weren't the best fighter I had ever seen, you weren't the most accomplished – as far as I knew you hadn't done much fighting outside of training… But the moment I saw you, the way you held yourself, your humour, your smile… the way you talked of my people, the way you agonised over your lack of leadership skills, the way you have led and guided me in the ways of the surface – I swear I'd have gone insane by now and killed a whole village or something if it wasn't for you…

'I wish I had realised sooner,' I whispered as I bit my lip, my heart racing. I took a deep breath and leaned towards him, gently brushing his mouth with my own. He shifted in his sleep, his arms, coming up and around me, his lips seeking mine. 'Shhhh,' I soothed him, tenderly urging his arms back to his side. 'Sleep, belo- friend...' I swallowed, holding back the tide of sudden emotion bubbling inside of me.

'Alistair,' my voice cracked and I pulled in a shuddering breath. 'If I can ask anything of you after all that I have done, I ask you this; fight and be yourself again, and I swear that I will be a better... friend to you... to them all.'

His eyes fluttered open, for the briefest moment, and met mine. 'Nyra,' he breathed, his mouth curling into a small smile, before he drifted back to the Fade.

o-O-o

'We need to stop.'

Mithra turned to me with a frown upon her pretty face, clearly exasperated by yet another pause in what was supposed to be a three day journey, at this rate it was going to take almost a week.

'My legs are too short to walk such distances at such speeds.' I motioned down at my stumpy legs and glared at the woman in front of me. The elf threw her hands up in frustration and ordered her comrades to stop and rest. Just as they did of a night, the elves sat themselves as far from our group as possible, with Zevran and Aesha – the blond bowman – sitting together somewhere in-between.

Leliana's soft giggle filled my ear and I turned, flushed face, to face my own group. Wynne was smiling softly at me, the first time she had done so since before Denerim, Sten grunted and dropped his and Alistair's packs at the foot of a tree and rested his frame against it, whilst Morrigan marched back the way we had come, muttering something about having to stretch her wings. Only Alistair stood near me, a frown, similar to Mithra's, upon his face.

He peered down at my legs, the frown deepening, and I could see the cogs turning in his head. _She's never had to stop before_, I could almost imagine him reasoning. _Why now? _

When his eyes returned to mine, he still had that simple confused expression.

'Why don't you take the opportunity to rest, Alistair,' I licked my lips, my eyes darting to his feet, 'I know that I could do with a short break to regain my strength.' I turned, before he could comment and settled myself somewhere between him and Zevran and Aesha, who were watching our interaction with amusement. I glared at the pair, who smirked and returned to whatever it was they were discussing.

I jumped when Leliana's soft voice whispered by my ear; 'That was a brave thing you did, you know that he doesn't like to appear weak.'

'I know,' I huffed, folding my arms across my chest and settling back against the tree. 'That's why I made myself look a fool.'

'Don't be silly,' she sighed as she settled next to me, 'everyone knows why you stopped really, even the elves. Once he figures it out, he'll appreciate it.'

'It is a good job he is devilishly handsome, as strong as a bull, and has the stamina of a god,' Zevran's silky smooth voice whispered at my other side, causing me to jump again. The bastards were far too sneaky. Leliana giggled at his words, but I simply rolled my eyes.

'Zevran, you know I think you pay him more compliments than you pay us women!' I protested in jest. 'If I didn't know you were desperate to get in my knickers, I'd swear you were desperate to get in his.'

'What if I want in both your knickers?' he threw a wink to Leliana over my head. 'In _all_ your knickers?' The bard's laugh tinkled through the trees, and I groaned as Mithra instantly stood an stalked towards us.

'How's he doing?' I asked under my breath, my gaze firmly held on the dark-haired elf as I rubbed at my calves. 'Does he look strong enough to carry on for a while?'

The moment _'oui' _escaped the bard's lips, I jumped to my feet.

'Ahh,' I sighed in relief. 'That did it. Are your men up for continuing, Mithra?' I called to her before she was halfway to us.

o-O-o

'We are here,' Mithra proclaimed sweeping her hand at the encampment below us. I sighed with relief as I saw the strange Dalish camp. We were only yards from it now, just down one winding path and we'd be able to get Alistair fixed up.

'Finally,' I heard him breathe, supposedly under his breath, and I felt my heart contract at the raggedness of it. He walked in front of me and I couldn't help a small smile of satisfaction and pride at the strength and courage he'd shown as we'd trekked through the forest.

It hadn't been easy for him. The tiredness hitting him immediately, the fever two days later and then complete muscle weakness, that made it even difficult for him to walk, taking him the day after. The stops that I had arranged throughout our trek helped, but it had caused the journey to extend from three to five days. Mithra had suggested sending someone ahead to warn them of Alistair's condition and retrieve a stretcher so that they could carry him quicker, but I declined, reminding her that it wasn't him we were stopping for, but me, and _I_ refused to be carried anywhere like a child.

I had honestly thought she was going to kill me in that moment; however, Aesha, thank the Ancestors for him, had quickly distracted her with a possible sighting of werewolf tracks.

Alistair had been a different crate of stalker eggs. After declaring the third stop of the day, he had approached me, demanding to know what I was playing at.

'Why are you aggravating them, Nyra?' he had hissed, grabbing my arm as I walked back to our group after telling Mithra I needed another rest. 'We need them, and you're going to make them think-'

'No, Alistair,' I began, keeping my voice calm, reminding myself that he was ill, that he was tired and sore, but still had his pride. 'I need _you_. I need you to get to their camp as _Alistair_. I need you strong and capable and able to fight. I need you back to the warrior you are.' I sighed as I saw him frown at my words, knowing that he was misconstruing them.

'I can't do this on my own, Alistair!' The words were harsh from my lips, perhaps if our relationship hadn't been strained from my actions in Denerim they would have been softly spoken, with a caress to show him how much I cared for him. But it _was_ strained and he remembered nothing of my pleading the night he was attacked, or of my time in his tent as he slept.

'You said it from the start – we're in this together. I may fuck up – hell, I already have – and you might too; I'm sure that we'll all have our fuck up moments, but we're in. this. together,' I enunciated each word as I poked him with my finger. 'So if I want to stop, to give you a chance to regain your strength, so that you can fight this curse that you've been exposed to, and carry on to their camp so that their leader can cleanse you, exorcise you, or whatever you do to someone who's cursed, then forgive me, but I don't give a shit! I just want my friend back!'

We had stared at each other for a moment before his face had softened as my words finally sunk in, and he nodded and walked away to rest up.

Now Mithra, Aesha and Zevran strode ahead of the party; agile steps down the steep path, making quick work of the uneven terrain. I paused to watch them, envious at their nimble footwork, as they jumped onto the large boulder blocking the end of the pathway and then down the other side, out of sight for a moment before they rounded the rock, darting towards the nearest patrol to announce our immediate arrival. I pouted slightly; although agile and nimble in the Roads, I would never be as Zevran and Leliana were on the surface. Their longer legs, lithe forms and petite frames made them move with a grace that I would never be blessed with.

A strangled cry from Alistair turned my head, and with wide eyes I watched him stumble and fall to the muddy ground, his face a mask of pain. The elves where quick to react; drawing their weapons and racing towards him. Wynne, who was been closest, knelt in the mud at his side waving her illuminated hands over him, but for only a moment before a fiery red-headed elf grabbed her and pulled her away, replacing her a moment later by a dark haired Elven scrapper. His knife was raised, ready to plunge into my friend's throat and, as I screamed at him to stop and get away, an almighty roar sounded behind the Elven group.

The biggest, blackest grizzly bear stood behind them all, bearing its teeth, and Morrigan was nowhere to be seen. I blinked for a moment, skidding along the mud as I tried to halt in surprise – the witch had said she could change shape, she mentioned often that she was off to 'circle the perimeter', yet none of us had seen her in any form other than that of... well, Morrigan.

'You touch him,' I growled, finally finding purchase in the mud, stopping a few steps from the elves and trying not to show my surprise at Morrigan's new shape. 'And I will cut you from navel to nose and let my friends here eat whatever spills from you.' A puff of air sprouted from Morrigan's large snout, accompanied by Bert's snarling at my side. The group of young hunters and scrappers had a hard time trying to decide who their attention should be upon, finding themselves trapped in a small space between seasoned fighters, an angry Mabari and a giant bear. The dark haired elf, who held my fellow Warden's life in his hands, cast his eyes towards me, trying to work out if my words were threat or promise.

'She has gutted men before, and for a lot less.' Leliana's usually lilting voice was unusually hard, and reminded me of the actions that had caused the discord between Alistair and I.

'Warden Nyra, Warden Alistair?' Sten's voice called from the other side of the boulder, clearly unsure why the rest hadn't followed him.

'Retrieve Zevran, Sten, the elves have betrayed us. We leave them to their fate; the Grey Wardens will not help them when the camps are filled with the Darkspawn.' I heard the Qunari utter what sounded like a curse in his language before his hurried footsteps dashed across the ground towards where Zevran and the others had disappeared.

'He is a threat to my people,' the elf finally found his voice, the others of his kind nodding their assent. 'You would do the same in my position.' He raised his hand again only to halt as I spoke.

'If you hurt him, _I_ will be a threat to your people. I will gut you, your friends _and_ your children. You will wish you had been left to the tainted beasts, who crawl beneath our feet at this very moment, when I am through with your clan.'

The elf glared at me, his arm lowered slightly, but his threat was still there nonetheless. 'I thought that the _Durgen'len_ were friends of the Dalish, with all the history we share?'

'_Durgen'len_?' Leliana asked.

'The children of the stone, the little ones from the rocks, the child of-'

'Watch your mouth,' I hissed, hating the references of small and child that were directed at my people. 'Our race is older than any upon this stupid surface and you will respect us as elders, not demote us to infants due to our physical stature. As for being friends,' I snorted in derision at his words. 'I am not here on behalf of my people, I am here with the Grey Wardens, warning your people of the Blight, of the danger you face, requesting their help as Alistair and I,' I waved towards my fellow Order brother, 'walk the path to end the evil that seeks to corrupt your lands, that you might live to walk them still, even as my own people do not have theirs.

'I have even offered to take his life, the life of a fellow Warden, of a brother in arms, a... friend,' I risked a glance at Alistair, who twitched in his unconscious state, 'should it be needed, and yet, at the first sign, you take back your word; you take from us the right to even _check_, to _confirm_, if that life needs to be taken, to see if I must do what I need to do.' One or two of the other elves shuffled nervously as I spoke.

'I thought that our people taught you honour,' I said quietly, but clear enough for all to hear. 'But it seems that the surface strips that from all. No wonder my people exile their dishonoured to this land and disown those that traverse here of their own free will.'

'Gevlaen!' Mithra's voice sounded loud and shrill above our heads. The dark haired beauty looked down upon the elf that held Alistair's life in his hand, a look of sheer outrage upon her fine features. '_Hamin_, brother!'

Gevlaen, quickly did as he was told, dropping Alistair's head to the ground with a thud. Morrigan growled behind him, causing him to jump slightly as he was reminded of her formidable presence.

When the elves dispersed from around my fellow Warden, Wynne hurried to Alistair's side, and, without prompting, Morrigan stepped towards him, putting herself between the Templar-Warden and the Elven group. I nodded politely to Mithra and watched as Sten hauled himself back upon the boulder with Zevran at his side.

I gazed at Alistair only to feel my stomach drop into my mud covered boots; the scene was far too reminiscent of that just a week ago when he had first been subjected to the curse. I swallowed as I met Zevran's eyes, knowing that he saw the adrenaline, which had been coursing through my veins during the conflict, leave me. The assassin nodded towards Alistair and I shook my head at him.

Knowing that her answer might damn me to whatever hellish place awaited those who killed their fellow Wardens, I finally managed to ask, 'Is he still...?'

'Alive? He's breathing and-'

'Alistair?' I cut over her sharply, my fingers twitching at my blades, and I issued yet another silent prayer to whoever was willing to hear me, that I wouldn't have to use them on him – _ever_. 'Is he still Alistair?'

The mage's eyes narrowed as she peered up at me, her gaze flickering over my hands at my hip, knowing that I was ready to do what I must. 'Yes,' she finally confirmed and I released the breath I hadn't realised I had been holding.

Mithra joined us, dragging her brother by the ear and throwing him towards me. He muttered something under his breath which only caused Mithra to pull at his lobe more. Zevran winced at the action as he reached down to grab Alistair's body from the Qunari who was hoisting him over the rock.

'_Emma __Abelas_!' Gevlaen squealed. 'I am sorry!'

'That's better,' she murmured, but she twisted his ear more as she growled, 'I am still going to tell mother, you _len'alas lath'din_!' before she threw him back towards the others. I watched in amusement as he stepped away from them when they all turned their backs to him.

'I am sorry, Warden Nyra.' Mithra bowed to me. 'My brother has only just become a full fledged hunter and he has been far too eager to show the clan that he is worthy of his place within it. I shall bring up his behaviour to both our mother and Zathrian as soon as I am able.'

With a quick nod, I brushed past her and the other elves to where Sten stood and frowned up at the giant boulder before letting out a long sigh.

'Do you require assistance, Warden Nyra?' Sten asked quietly. I smiled softly at him and nodded. With a gentle push I was upon the boulder and, without pause, scrambling down the other side to chase after Zevran and Alistair, who were being assisted by another group of elves, into the Dalish camp.

o-O-o

_The first verse of the Canticles of Benediction is taken from the Dragon Age Wiki; it is referenced as 4:10 and 4:11. The second and third verses I made up as there was no more from that canticle._

_*Hamin – Sheathe your knife. Taken from the Dragon Age Wiki – Elven Language_

_*__ Emma __Abelas – I am sorry. Taken from the Dragon Age Wiki – Elven Language. _

_*len'alas lath'din – Dirty child that no one loves. Taken from the Dragon Age Wiki – Elven Language; insults._

_I'm off now for half term, which means no teaching and back to writing! Yey! Hoping to get a few more chapters written during the time off as I have so many ideas I want to get down! _

_Tell me, would you be adverse to a certain assassin voicing his view?_

_Again thank you to everyone who has visited this tale, this month (prior to update, 72 visitors!) I feel honoured and thankful for the reviews and follows that I have received!_


	29. Chapter XXIX: The Dalish

Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Dalish

'Hmmm,' mused a tall, bald elf, peering down at me in the dusk-laden light, as Mithra brought Sten, Zevran and I into the centre of the Dalish encampment. 'I see we have guests.' Without warning Bert started growling and barking at the man, whose eyes went wide in surprise. 'And a hound amongst them. As if we haven't had enough problems with such _creatures_,' the elf snapped.

'Shush, Bert,' I chided him. He lowered his head, but kept his eyes firmly placed on the man before us. I frowned at him, it wasn't like him to take an instant dislike to someone we were introduced to.

'Now, perhaps we might introduce ourselves.' I turned back to the man. 'I am Zathrian, Keeper and Hahren of this clan. You are?'

'Nyra, of the Grey Wardens.'

'If you came to bring news of the Blight in the south, Nyra, it is not needed-'

'Warden Nyra,' Sten interrupted the elf, who raised his eyebrows in surprise to the giant, before dipping his head slightly.

'My apologies... It is not needed, Warden Nyra, I had already sensed the corruption. I would have taken my clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see,' he motioned to a large tent on the other side of the camp, 'we do not.'

'So their first reaction to trouble is to flee from it? Curious,' the giant muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

It was well known that when faced with a force such as the Darkspawn you had only two options; fight or flight. My people chose the previous, the elves chose the latter, and yet neither of us really had lands to call our own. My people did have Orzammar and Kal'Sharok, but what we held now was a speck compared to what we should have. We had fought at first, only to flee before we were overwhelmed, and finally found ourselves making a stand again as we sealed the great doors. The elves had also had lands once, they had been driven from them by the Tevinter Imperium and then again by the Chantry. Even now they ran, never staying in one place for too long, never bonding with other clans. And when the Blight threatened, they kept on running.

'I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago?' Zathrian continued on. 'Unfortunately, we may-'

'Yes and no,' I interrupted him. 'We do carry the treaties, we do expect you to keep your word, but another, more important, matter has arisen and Mithra said that you may be able to help us.'

'Your fellow Warden, the _Shemlen_ was bitten. I did hear.' He nodded gravely as he spoke. 'I must admit, when Mithra explained the situation to me, I was surprised that he was still... human after such a time.'

'He is a Grey Warden,' I offered as if that explained everything.

'Come, please, follow me.' He lead me to a large tent, the moans of many could be heard from within as attendants hurried back and forth. 'We came to the Brecilian Forest one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us.

'They... ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak.' He opened the heavy flap of the tent and allowed me to walk within. Rows of low lying cots ran the length and width of the tent and were adorned by men who would usually be described as young, strong and virile, yet now the words would be far from the truth. Some lay doubled up in pain, vomiting over the sides of their beds into containers provided for them. Others simply stared at the skinned roof of the infirmary tent, their eyes haunted by terrors only they could see as beads of sweat dripped from their brow and down their hairline dampening their pillows.

A piercing cry filled the room as a young warrior shot up from his prone position, clawing at his skin that seemed shadowed with hair slowly spreading across his face. I stepped back in horror – even though I was far from the scene – as his fingers began to elongate, his long misshapen nails darkened into claw-like talons. His scream of agony turned into a howl that was abruptly ended by the blade of a guard as it was thrust through his back and out his stomach. The young elf looked down at the protrusion with wide eyes, his strange looking hands reaching for it in disbelief before his body finally slumped as he joined his Ancestors – or whatever deity they believed in.

A flash of my own blade spearing Alistair through the chest seared my mind and turned my stomach. Taking a steadying breath to stop a sudden heave I felt within it, I closed my eyes, hoping that if I didn't see the elf I wouldn't see the image, but it only intensified the vision and I felt what little colour I had in my pale face leave in a rush and the world around me tip and spin.

Zathrian gave me a moment to collect myself, a small crease in his brow line as he waved an elf, who was carrying water, over.

'Even with our magical and healing skills,' Zathrian continued, as I took a sip of the cool liquid, 'we are forced to slay our brethren to prevent them becoming beasts.' He motioned for me to follow him back out of the infirmary and I frowned as I saw Leliana and Morrigan assembling Alistair's small tent outside of the hospital encampment as Wynne tended to him.

'The Blight's evil must be stopped,' the Keeper continued, 'but we are in no position to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry.'

'But Mithra said that if anyone could heal Alistair it would be you and tha- _Bert_!' I exclaimed as I saw the dog lift his leg and urinate all over the Keeper's tent, releasing a long steam of heavily yellowed urine over the skins that made the abode. 'Get over here right now!' He finished his business unperturbed; with his head cocked to one side, he looked as if my outrage was the most puzzling thing he had ever come across.

'I am so sorry,' I offered as I looked up at the elf who looked as horrified as I felt mortified. He blinked a few times before he slowly shook his head.

'It is… a trifling thing compared to what we are currently dealing with.' He waved a couple of elves over to deal with the matter as we turned back towards where Alistair's tent was now raised around him. The entrance flaps were tied back, framing Wynne and Leliana sat within as they tended to my fellow Warden. Morrigan sat without, her vials and jars tinkling as she began to work on more of her elixirs for Alistair's fevers.

'So there's no help for Alistair,' I muttered my eyes fixed on him lying upon his roll and instantly forgetting about Bert's little incident. 'Mithra said…'

I closed my eyes and felt myself sway, suddenly realising that I was going to have to keep my word – that I was going to have to turn my blade upon Alistair. The whole way to the Dalish camp I had promised to do so, clinging to the chance that we would reach the clan in time for this Zathrian to save him, to reverse the curse. None of the elves had said that it wasn't reversible – quite the opposite.

_They were frightened you'd kill them, _my mind scoffed at my naivety, _of course they'd say that. Lead you to their camp where there were a lot more of them to help take you down when you attacked._

Bert nudged my hand with his large head and I rested myself against him, thankful for his support – forgiving him for his previous misdemeanour. For all I cared now, he could piss on the entire camp and their dead for their lies to me.

'There may be... no, I don't think-' Zathrian's sudden words cleared my head and righted my world. I turned my wide, pleading steel-blue eyes up to him as I focused on the tremor of possibility in his voice.

'What?' I snapped. 'If you know of a way-'

'The only thing that _could_ help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that... that would be no trivial task to retrieve.' The Keeper shook his head as if their fates – _Alistair's_ – were already sealed.

'I'm good at non-trivial tasks. Just tell me I need to know, to do, and I'll get it done.'

Zathrian pursed his lips. 'Yes, I do believe you would.' If I hadn't been blinded by desperation to heal my Order brother, I probably would have noticed the triumphant gleam in the Keepers eyes.

'Within the Brecilian Forest dwells a great wolf – we call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated, and through his blood that it has been spread. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse… No it is too dangerous – I sent two hunter groups into the forest over a week ago; Mithra's returned, the others haven't. If I won't risk more of my clan, I cannot ask strangers to do this task.'

'You're not asking me!' I clung to the hope he was offering me. 'I will do _whatever_ it takes to break this curse.'

'I must warn you, more than werewolves lurk in the forest. It has a history of carnage and murder-'

'Yes, yes,' I nodded absently with a wave of my hand. 'Horrible, terrible things await me-'

'You said 'perhaps',' Zevran interjected. 'It is not guaranteed to work then?' My gaze snapped back to Zathrian – how had I missed that?

'No, there is no guarantee that it would work – but it is the last hope that we have left. If you wish your friend to live, then it is Witherfang's heart that we need.'

'Then we'll get it. Just tell me how to find Witherfang.'

'Watch for the white wolves – they are his eyes and ears. If you need anything else,' he turned and began walking back to his landship, 'speak to Lanaya.'

'That's it?' I asked surprised, considering how eager he appeared for me to get the heart of this particular wolf.

'There is something I do not like about him,' Sten said as he rejoined Zevran and I. 'I have just been speaking to a man who has been forbidden to seek his mate – I agree that to hold the group over the individual is worthy, but his clan leader does not appear forthcoming with him over the fate of his bonded mate. This does not sit well with me.'

'I know you are desperate to save Alistair, _Mia dolce, _but you are letting that cloud your view of this man – your viewing of the ill has scared you-'

I turned back to the elf, placing my hands on my hips. 'Zevran, I have to do whatever it takes to save Alistair – seeing that elf becoming one of those… _things_, only made me realise exactly what horror we are facing if he turns.

'Alistair is a Grey Warden, Zevran, Sten, not just a human as they keep referring to him as. He carries the taint in his blood as well as this curse now – what will he become when he turns? Will he just become a werewolf or some horrid Darkspawn-werewolf hybrid?' I rubbed my hands over my face as I realised the depths of the problem over all. This wasn't just about me potentially losing Alistair. 'Those beasts were formidable themselves; Darkspawn are difficult to fell if you're not a Warden – imagine a mutt version of them?'

I watched the two men cast their eyes towards Alistair's hut as the imaginary of my words struck them.

'Darkness is falling,' Sten announced, breaking the silence that had descended over us. 'We leave at first light.'

o-O-o

I sat at the small fire we had erected in front of Alistair's tent, breaking small sticks and tossing them on the pitiful flame. I was chilled to the bone, foregoing my blanket, and yet I felt it not. I was numb, but not from the approaching wintery weather. Alistair's earlier collapse had started his deterioration in earnest; his breathing was becoming laboured, his skin refused to cool beneath Wynne and Leliana's ministrations, and even Morrigan's advanced brews were of no help – he had started vomiting the moment she coaxed them down his throat.

The image of the elf, a warrior's blade thrust through him, replayed continuously through my mind. I knew what I was going to have to do to my fellow Grey Warden and friend, and my already broken heart felt as if it was shattering into an unfathomable number of pieces as I imagined his eyes, opening wide in disbelief and dismay at my actions as my blade thrusts through his heart.

I took a shuddering breath as I bit back the tears that thickened my throat. I was moving out in the morning, to find the wolf named Witherfang, and I knew that Alistair would not survive to see my return. Upon Zathrian's inspection he confirmed he'd be lucky to last the night at his current rate of decline.

I threw the last stick in the dying flame and automatically reached for the blade at my side as the feeble fire, struggling to burn the small, damp sticks, died out. As it licked it's last tendril over the barely scorched twig, my eyes rose and met the azure ones that had been watching me carefully all evening.

I nodded to Zevran, who, with tightened jaw and sorrowful eyes, returned my gesture as I stood. Taking another breath I turned and moved into Alistair's sorry little abode. Leliana still knelt over him, her hands clasped around the pendent of Andraste she wore bout her neck as she whispered hurried, yet sincere, prayers to her Maker. I had whispered many of my own to the Ancestors earlier when I had found a core stone, but nothing had helped so far.

The bard turned her head at my arrival, her eyes big and pleading, knowing what I was here to do. She opened her mouth, but I merely held up my free hand to still her protests, wincing as she bit back a sob and bent over her sweet and brief friend whispering her goodbyes into his ear. I stepped from her way as she quickly exited the tent, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and a sliver of envy stirred within me. How I envied her chance to say goodbye; a goodbye free of guilt and filled with love. A goodbye that would lift him as he travelled into the next world, or wherever it was humans went to when they d- when their time upon Thedas ended.

I turned back to Alistair; his skin pale, clothes soaked with sweat and his breath a wheeze in the quiet night, would be my last image of him. No memory of his warm amber eyes filled with laughter or goofy grin beaming at me would ever be able to replace this image of him right now; the moment when I ended his life.

My legs shook as I stepped towards him and I stumbled slightly as my foot caught the strap of his pack. I cursed and shook it free.

_Please, Alistair, forgive me for what I do. Rest with your Maker and be welcomed again by your brothers who await you in the after. May my Ancestors know that I ease your burden and watch over you as you journey on-_

'Oh!' the startled voice of Morrigan halted my silent goodbye. 'I'm sorry,' she dipped her head, averting her gaze from my furious stare, 'the assassin did not forewarn me that you were- what are those?' Her long slender finger pointed to a small purse on the floor that had fallen from Alistair's pack and the small vials protruding from it. My frown matched hers for a moment before I gasped in understanding; the seeds of hope stirring in my heart.

'Those are not mi-'

'Get out!' I barked, stepping towards her and my last chance of prolonging Alistair's life enough for me to find the cure. 'Get out now!'

She turned and quickly ducked out the door as I holstered my dagger upon my hip and scooped up the precious elixirs and turned back to my friend. How had I forgotten about such a thing? Avernus had said that we would have need of it again throughout our lives as he had given the purse to us.

_The Call is quickened during a Blight_, he had told me. _This will keep your Call at bay until your feel your work is done; be that until the Archdemon falls or... well, perhaps your time will be your own choice, just as mine has been._

_Could_ such a thing work against this curse?

With hope squeezing my battered heart, I turned to Alistair, gathering him into my arms, his head upon my breast, and tilted his head back gently, grabbing the cork with my teeth and spitting it across the tent as I freed it from the vial. Without grace or ceremony, I tossed the brew down his throat, keeping his mouth closed to ensure he swallowed it, and waited… and prayed just one last time…

o-O-o

It wasn't an instant recovery. I sat for over an hour before I realised that my patient had yet to sprout fur or grow fangs. It was another half hour before I was certain that his breathing was steady again and his fever was receding. After sitting that way for over two hours – his head on my chest, snuggled against me – I finally allowed my body to relax and kicked my blade out of my reach with my foot.

_Thank you, you mad, brilliant, old loon. _I had to remember to personally thank the ancient mage if we ever trespassed upon the Peak again.

By the dim light fluttering in through the unsealed tent flaps I estimated there was barely more than an hour before Zevran, Sten and I would have to prepare for our departure. I would have just enough time to speak to Morrigan and try to convince her to agree to my plan.

Surprisingly I found the witch already up when I stepped from Alistair's tent, her eyes were fixed upon the Dalish standing guard outside of the infirmary tent.

'I do not trust them,' she stated without turning towards me.

'Neither do the men,' I replied. 'The keeper especially – the boys believe he is hiding something, but I do not have time to figure it out, Alistair, he needs-'

'He is not dead then.' It was not a question. Silently I shook my head _no_.

'The others, they thought that you had stayed with him afterwards; Leliana said she would _make_ you come out at first light. Ha!' the witch barked, sounding surprisingly like her mother. Wisely, I kept the thought to myself. 'She lives in a dream world.'

'She is loyal.'

'Unless you disagree with her beliefs.'

'What?'

''Tis of no matter.' The witch finally turned her gaze to me. 'I cannot go with you into the forest – not if the men are following you there. Someone has to protect the buffoon.'

'Morrigan, why have you never shown your shape changing before? You talk about it, but…'

'I had no need. The men are as strong and formidable as my bear form and it takes a lot of power to transform into something of use in battle. Small creatures are no bother and are handy if I wish to make an escape or observe something. Big beasts are… cumbersome. I use them only if there is no other choice.'

We stood in silence watching the elves stare silently back at us, the mistrust between both of our peoples evident in the tension in our stances.

'So what stopped you from using your blade?' It was posed as a question, but something within me told me she already knew, although I was dammed if I knew how. At that moment Zevran climbed from his tent, his eyes caught mine and he simply raised one perfectly groomed brow to ask the question. I shook my head again.

Unless you knew him, you would have missed the relaxing of his shoulders as relief seemed to wash over him. My gaze flickered to the elves opposite and then back to Alistair's tent. The assassin nodded.

'Morrigan,' I simply stated and without another word the two of us turned and headed back to Alistair's tent.

'His fever is down,' the witch confirmed as she checked my ailing friend, 'that is a good sign.' She turned her attention to the potion I had shown her when we entered, holding it up to the dim light. Her eyes flickered to me for a brief moment and she shook her head slightly. Clearly we were not to openly discuss the red-liquid swirling in the small bottles lest we be overheard.

'How many?'

'Enough.' I handed her the pouch. She counted the vials inside, a frown marring her face momentarily before nodding.

'I need to ask you a favour, Morrigan, if it stops working and he… if he begins to show signs that…' I swallowed the lump that tried in vain to push its way through my throat.

'I will do what is needed – when the time comes for it.'

I ignored the fact that she did not say 'if'. Instead I nodded before turning back to Alistair, pulling his bed clothes up and fixing his mused hair. I did not say thank you to the witch for her aid, for how do you thank someone for promising to kill a friend?

o-O-o

_The Easter Holidays are soon arriving and I'll have 2 weeks of freedom to get some writing done again! Yey! Hopefully I'll be able to get a few chapters written again and we'll be able to proceed more with the story of how they rescue Alistair from the clutches of the curse!_

_Thanks for reading and / or reviewing; it means a great deal that you're still with me with this!_


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